Caricature of Intimacy
by FoxyWombat
Summary: House gets more than he bargained for when he sees a patient at the clinic and has to admit her, discovering she's more connected to PPTH than anyone expected...Cuddy backstory and insight into the HouseCuddy dynamic.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine…just borrowing…

A/N: This is my first House fic, so I hope it's something people are interested in. As a personal disclaimer, I'm a college student who is not pre-med and has no real medical knowledge beyond the internet, so I apologize if there are blatant medical errors. I hope you'll take the time to give it a read and that you enjoy it.

**Title: Caricature of Intimacy **

Timeline: Season 1, post-Vogler, pre-Stacy's return

Characters: House and others as it progresses

* * *

**Chapter 1: **

House made his way through the clinic with unveiled irritation. Clinic hours were bad enough under normal circumstances, but they were the worst during the hour between three and four o'clock when he could be watching _General Hospital_ in the comfort of his office. As he approached the next exam room, out of the corner of his eye he saw the flash of familiar opening credits through the window of a side room. Tossing the chart he had just picked up back in the rack, House made a beeline for the room with the television and entered without glancing at the chart belonging to the patient.

"Hi, I'm Dr. House." He gave a cursory glance at the patient, who currently was reaching for the remote to turn off the television. "No leave it on."

"Okay." She set it down slowly and gave him a confused look. "I'm just waiting…"

"For a doctor, yeah," he cut her off, sitting down to look at the television. "On commercial."

"Right," she shrugged. "Volume okay?"

"Peachy." He leaned back on the chair, and they watched in silence. When the screen switched to commercials, House looked down at the chart and read: "Rebecca Yates, 19-years-old, complaining of fever and severe headache." He glanced up at her. "How severe?"

"Right now, 6 out of 10, but it jumps up to an 8 at times," she answered. "I get migraines occasionally, but this is different – it's at the base of my skull, not over an eye."

"When did the fever start?"

"I've had a low grade fever for a few weeks, but it spiked up over 100 this morning."

"Low grade?"

"99.3 to 99.7."

"Did you think that maybe this could be a sign that you're sick?" he snarked. "Did it cross your mind to see a doctor then?"

"Yes." She rolled her eyes at his attitude. "My neurotic aunt made me see two – the first was a doc-in-the-box at student health after 10 days and the second was last week. Both did a CBC and showed low white blood cell count, which was attributed to a viral infection that required rest and not the stress of finals."

"You're a college student." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Just finished my sophomore year."

"Over-achiever."

"So?" Having just turned 19 a week before, she was used to being hassled by her young age.

"Pre-med?"

"Hell no," she paused. "No offense."

"GH." He turned his attention back to the television and she did the same. When it came time for the next commercial break he asked. "What about the back pain?"

"It's nothing."

"You were rubbing it."

"It's stiff."

"You also made a face."

"It's sore, okay?"

"Don't you think that's something you should tell the doctor?"

"It's not related – it's chronic."

"Chronic pain." He pulled the bottle of Vicodin from his pocket. "That's why I have these."

"Want to share?"

"Nope." He tossed a pill in his mouth. "Sorry."

"Fine," she sighed, leaning slowly to pull her purse onto her lap. After digging through it, she pulled out a prescription bottle. "Okay if I take my own?"

"If you tell me what it is."

"Prescription nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug." She tossed the bottle at him to prove her point. "I only take Vicodin in the morning." He handed it back to her and she swallowed a pill with a smile. "Don't want to become dependent."

"Of course not, now what-"

"Shh! It's back," she cut him off, happy to have the upper hand for the moment. When it came time for the next commercial, she was the first to speak. "I was in a car accident when I was twelve. I fractured two vertebrae and suffered from temporary paralysis. With physical therapy I regained mobility, but I still have chronic pain. My doctors said it was spondylolisthesis in the one vertebra and that arthrodesis wasn't an option because of muscle scarring. Instead, I pop a Vicodin in the morning so I can get out of bed, take prescription NSAIDs, and do yoga."

"And the yoga helps?"

"Builds muscle strength," she answered with a shrug. "My point is that the pain's chronic, so I doubt it has anything to do with my fever."

"But the it's getting worse?"

"Yeah, but that's what pain does," she answered firmly, her eyes meeting his with a silent understanding of each other.

"When was your last MRI?"

"Two years."

"That aunt of yours can't be as neurotic as you think if she hasn't insisted on a new MRI."

"That's because she doesn't know about the increase in pain."

"So you lie to her."

"Everyone lies."

"Very true." His gaze drifted back to the television, but his mind was on the patient. All of her symptoms did not make sense. If she took Vicodin every morning, the acetaminophen should have gotten rid of the fever, and other than the headache she had no other cold or flu-like symptoms. There was also something about her that seemed vaguely familiar. When the commercial came on again, he looked at her. "I'm going to schedule you for a fresh MRI and draw some blood to send down to the lab."

"You're going to do it?" she raised an eyebrow, "Not a nurse?"

"If I call a nurse in here, the television goes off." He pulled what he needed from the drawer and set it on the small procedures table next to the exam table. "And neither of us want that."

"Good point." She watched him tie the tourniquet around her arm and swab the area with alcohol, but looked away when he picked up the needle.

"All done," he announced when he finished a few moments later. He took her free hand and placed it over the cotton ball on her elbow and folded her arm up to hasten the clotting.

"Really?" She looked at him in surprise. "I didn't even feel it."

"That's because I'm good." He placed the vial of blood in a plastic bag.

"No." She shook her head, the fear creeping in her voice. "I mean I didn't feel anything – no prick, not even the alcohol."

"Here." He unfolded her arm and examined the area, noticing nothing irregular in its appearance. "Wiggle your fingers."

"They feel fine." she moved them for him and made a tight fist to prove the extent of their mobility.

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just do it." he repeated and she obeyed. He placed two fingers on the inside of her wrist. "Do you feel that?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to move my fingers up your arm and I want you to tell me when you think I've stopped touching you."

"Okay." She felt his fingers slide up her arm. "Now."

"Open your eyes." She did as he said and looked over to see his fingers still on her arm. "I haven't moved them."

"What does that mean?"

"That you win a stay in the penthouse suite at PPTH," he answered sarcastically.

"Yippee," she answered in a tone that matched his.

"You betcha." Ge stuck his head out of the exa room. "Can I get a wheelchair in here? I have a patient that needs to be admitted now."

"Do I have to use the wheelchair?"

"I could get you a gurney."

"Fine," she sighed as a nurse brought it into the room.

"Do you need any help?" the nurse asked with a smile directed only at the patient and not at House.

"No." She got off the exam table herself and sat down in the chair, setting her purse on her lap. "I got it."

"Is there anyone you want us to call?" she asked as she adjusted the footrests, "Your parents?"

"No," she answered quickly, "They're dead."

"I'm sorry." The nurse's face filled with instant sympathy.

"Um, thanks, but it was a long time ago." She glanced at House, knowing he was curious. "The car accident."

"Where does she need to go, Dr. House?" the nurse turned to him, her tone all business.

"Diagnostics, duh!" He shook head in frustration. Where else would he send his own patient?

"Right," the nurse sighed and pushed the wheelchair toward the door.

"Later House," she told him, his sarcastic humor calming her nerves.

"Later." He glanced down at the chart. "Racy."

"Racy?" she asked, and the nurse paused in the doorway.

"Your initials," he clarified, "Rebecca A. C. Yates – what's the A. C., Atlantic City?"

"Sadly no." She smiled back at him. "Just a middle name and my mom's maiden name."

"So what's the full name?"

"Why do you care?" she asked and the nurse began pushing the wheelchair again.

"Family history."

"Fine," she answered over her shoulder before the door swung shut between them, "Rebecca Alyse Cuddy Yates."

* * *

A/N: So, what did you think? Please review…your feedback is always helpful and appreciated! 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine…just borrowing…

A/N: Here's Chapter 2…sorry about the delay, my mother was in town and making my life much busier than usual. Anyway, thanks for the reviews – I really appreciate them and feedback is so useful. Just so y'all know, the center of this story is not going to be my OC – Rebecca is more of a catalyst that will give Cuddy some back story and shed some light onto the House-Cuddy dynamic. Happy reading!

**Title: Caricature of Intimacy**

Timeline: Season 1: post-Vogler, pre-Stacy's return

Characters: House, Cuddy, Cottages…

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

Cameron, Chase, and Foreman entered the room of their newest case. Twenty minutes earlier, House had pulled them from their crossroad puzzles and charting notes to tell them about the nineteen year old with high fever, headache, and sporadic loss of tactile sensation. After throwing around a few differential diagnoses, House ordered the fellows to get a complete history from their patient and draw blood to begin the battery of tests to rule out potential causes.

"Hi Rebecca," Cameron said when they entered the room, "I'm Dr. Cameron and these are Doctors Chase and Foreman." As she said each of their names they gave a half wave. "We work with Dr. House."

"Hi." She muted the volume on the television show she had been watching, all the while thinking about whether or not Dr. House had mentioned her connection to the Dean of Medicine. Based on the fact that they were all behaving professionally but were calm and relaxed, she guessed that they were still uninformed. It had been her experience that when people knew whom her aunt was they tended to freak out.

"I have a few questions for you: family history – that kind of thing," Cameron began with a gentle smile, "And Dr. Chase is going to draw some blood so we can run some more tests."

"It's just going to be a slight pinch," Chase warned her.

"Still don't feel anything there anyway." She shrugged and looked at the African American doctor. "And what about you, Dr. Foreman?"

"I'm supervising," he joked.

"Sure." She cracked a genuine smile, and looked back at Cameron. "Ask away."

"I'm going to need your full name." She glanced down at the chart. "All I have is Rebecca A. C. Yates."

"I gave it to Dr. House," she said calmly, pleased that House did not reveal anything to his team. This was going to be fun. "Didn't he note in my chart?"

"Dr. House generally doesn't take notes," Chase told her.

"Oh, okay – Rebecca Alyse Cuddy Yates." She feigned confusion at their surprised expressions. "What? I know that having two middle names is kind of weird, but my mom only had one sister, so she wanted to make sure that her maiden name be carried on."

"I'm sorry," Cameron stuttered quickly. "It's just that…"

"You're not related to Dr. Cuddy, are you?" Foreman clarified.

"Who's Dr. Cuddy?" she asked.

"She's the Dean of Medicine," he told her.

"So, she's your boss?"

"She runs the entire hospital," Cameron explained, "Are you related to her?"

"Excuse me." An orderly appeared in the doorway with a cart holding a DVD player. "I have an order to deliver this."

"Just leave it in the corner, by the TV," Rebecca told him. "Thanks."

"You are related to her," Chase surmised, knowing that only serious clout could get a DVD player into one of the diagnostics treatment rooms.

"What's her first name?" Rebecca maintained her act.

"Lisa," Foreman told her, catching on as well. "Dr. Lisa Cuddy."

"Lisa Cuddy," she repeated the name as if she was having a major realization. "Hm, yes, I do have a Lisa in my family."

"Are you her daughter?" Cameron asked, her eyes wide open in surprise.

"Are you delusional or do you not know your boss?" She smirked at her. "Does Lisa Cuddy look like the kind of person who would have had a teenage pregnancy and hide a child for almost twenty years?"

"She's the sister – you're her niece." Foreman pointed at her.

"Bingo!"

"Do you enjoy being difficult?" Chase asked her. "Or are you just obnoxious?"

"Obnoxious? Me?" She gasped. "You're the doctor; you are supposed to be nice to me."

"Am I?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm the patient." She folded her arms. "More importantly, your boss is my aunt, remember?"

"Hey, patient history," Foreman broke in. "Remember?"

"Fine." Rebecca sighed dramatically. "What's next?"

* * *

"You admitted her?" Cuddy walked briskly through the doorway of House's office.

"Hello, Dr. Cuddy." He caught the ball he had been tossing in the air and set it down on his desk. "What can I do for you and your cleavage today?"

"You admitted her," she repeated.

"The girl I saw in clinic today with the mysterious array of symptoms in need of a diagnosis? Now why would I do that?" He slapped his forehead lightly for effect. "Oh right, _I'm_ a world class diagnostician."

"And you didn't tell me because…?"

"Because you always find these things on your lovely little hospital mainframe."

"Drop the act House." She folded her arms. "You know she's my niece."

"You have a niece?" His dramatic gasp was met with a glare and he became serious. "The middle name of 'Alyse Cuddy' kind of tipped me off – your sister must have really liked you."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I was hurt." He pouted. "We don't talk like we used to – I had to meet your niece by chance in a clinic exam room."

"Poor baby." She rolled her eyes and sat down on the chair opposite his desk. "And it wasn't by chance."

"It wasn't?" The wheels began to turn in his head and he put the pieces together. Rebecca had not been in a standard room and had been given a television. "Dr. Cuddy, you sneak!" He looked at her and she let out a small smile. "You set me up. Did you tell her to put on _General Hospital_ to lure me in?"

"No." She smirked. "For reasons that are beyond me, Rebecca loves those shows. All I did was put her in a room with a television during the right hour."

"Was she in on this?"

"She hates hospitals." Cuddy shook her head quickly. "She only came in for a blood draw."

"Why the cloak and dagger approach? Why not ask me directly?"

"I didn't want to owe you," she stated simply.

"We could have worked out a deal." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"As I said, Becca hates hospitals." She ignored him. "She would have refused another consult. It'd be like pulling teeth, from both of you."

"And she calls you her neurotic aunt?" He shook his head. "That's hardly neurotic. What would you have done if your intricately laid little plan failed and I hadn't seen her?"

"I would have made you see her."

"How?" he asked. "Whips, chains—"

"I'd double your clinic hours."

"But the promise hot sex would be so much for fun for both of us." He smirked.

"House!" she snapped, the usual joking in their banter vanished. "You think this is funny? You think I want you treating her?"

"If you don't want me treating her, pull me from the case." His tone matched hers. If she was going to have attitude, he was going to match her word for word.

"I don't want you pulled from the case. I don't want her to _need_ you on the case." She fought to keep her voice steady. "If you have to treat her, then she's really—"

"Going to be fine," he finished her sentence without his usual sarcasm. "My reputation wouldn't have it any other way."

"Yeah." She took steadying breath. Their eyes met and she gave him a silent thank you, before she joked back, "Because feeding your ego is a priority of this hospital."

"You know it." He smirked, looking up to see Cameron in the doorway. "Dr. Cameron, are you going to stand there all day or come in?"

"I didn't want to interrupt," she stuttered slightly as she walked in.

"You know I crave interruptions whenever I'm meeting with my boss or with a patient's family," he recited. "And this time it's both so you really should have burst right in and saved me."

"Right." She handed over the chart. "Chase and Foreman are in the lab and I finished the family history."

"Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?" He knew she was stalling because of Cuddy's presence in the room. "Just pretend she's not there – but don't make any mistakes because she'll know."

"Parents died in a car accident seven years ago – no medical conditions," she recited from memory. "Paternal grandfather died from congestive heart failure; paternal grandmother after complications from stroke; maternal grandmother from colon cancer; and maternal grandfather is still alive – his only medical conditions are Type II Diabetes and high blood pressure. Her dad was an only child, and she had a maternal uncle who died when he was in his late teens – she thinks it was leukemia because he had a bone marrow transplant, but said that no one talks about it, so she's not sure."

"Acute myeloid leukemia," Cuddy broke in. "Alan was nineteen."

"Older or younger?" House asked.

"Older." She anticipated his next question. "Rachel was seventeen; I was twelve."

"Who donated the marrow?" he pressed, out of curiosity more than anything.

"I did." She attempted to keep her face passive and not be swept back into the memories. She could not break - not now - not when Rebecca needed her and not in front of him.

"Anything else?" House looked at Cameron, giving Cuddy the reprieve she desired. The topic change was not unintentional, because despite her efforts, Cuddy revealed a glimpse of what she was thinking through her eyes and House had seen it and chose to give her a moment.

"Just her maternal aunt: Dr. Cuddy."

"Who is allergic to watermelon - fascinating!" House finished by reading her notes in the chart; he looked up at Cuddy. "You sure there isn't anything else, Dr. Cuddy? Some embarrassing affliction you couldn't share with your niece?" His response was a roll of her eyes. "Fine. Get an MRI of her head, neck, and back – plus a CT to check for intracranial pressure. And when you're done with that, start her on broad spectrum antibiotics just to be safe."

"Okay." Cameron nodded before walking out of the office.

"Let me see." Cuddy held out her hand.

"This?" He held up the chart. "Uh-uh! Family members do not read charts."

"Chiefs of Medicine do." She glared at him. "Give."

"Knock yourself out." He handed it over and picked up the phone.

"Who are you calling?"

"Wilson."

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"You want me to call someone else in oncology?"

"It's not AML."

"With the family history, we have to check."

"Her platelets are normal and her white count is low, not high," Cuddy listed off Rebecca's symptoms, or lack thereof. "No weight loss, no bruising, no petechiae."

"Symptoms vary, which you would know if you stopped thinking like the concerned aunt and returned to thinking like a doctor," he snapped harshly.

"Call Wilson." She rose from her seat, knowing he was right, "I'll be with my niece - waiting for you to finish your consult."

"Good to know."

"And House." She paused in the doorway. "When Wilson comes to Rebecca's room I expect to see you with him – not just your team."

* * *

A/N: So what did you think? Let me know what you liked/disliked or just whatever was going through your head as you read. Just click that little button! 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Not mine…just borrowing…

A/N: Here's Chapter 3 – many thanks to my reviewers, you all rock!

**Title: Caricature of Intimacy**

Timeline: Season 1, post-Vogler, pre-Stacy's return

Characters: House, Cuddy, Wilson, Rebecca…

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

"And we're done." Chase pushed a wheelchair into the main room where Rebecca lay in the MRI tube.

"Are you going to let me out?" she muttered from inside the tube.

"I don't know." He hit the button that allowed the table to slide out. "Are you going to behave?"

"Why wouldn't I?" She smirked at him when her head came out of the tube. "So, where are your cronies?"

"My cronies?"

"You know, the two other people in white coats that walk around with you?"

"Oh, those cronies." He smirked, removing the plastic brace that had been keeping her head immobilized. "Dr. Cameron is in the lab testing the blood we took from you and Dr. Foreman is back there looking over the films."

"Right." She sat up only to feel a shooting pain in her lower back. Swallowing a grimace, she smiled. "What did you do to get stuck with escort duty?"

"I didn't do anything. Foreman specializes neurology and Cameron in immunology."

"What about you?" She focused on him instead of the pain, which she knew would being fading soon.

"Intensive Care." He pushed the wheelchair closer. "If you're ready to go, we can be on our way."

"Give me second."

"Is everything all right?"

"Yeah." She finished stretching her back and slowly stood up. "Just a little stiff."

"Here." Chase offered her his arm.

"Thanks." She used it to steady herself as she sat down in the wheelchair. "I'm going to have to talk my aunt into getting MRI tubes with lumbar support."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," she repeated. "My back just tenses up if I spend more than an hour in the same position."

"You should have said something." He unlocked the brakes on the chair. "We could have given you a muscle relaxant before the tests."

"It's fine, really." She straightened her posture in the chair, as the pain subsided into to a dull ache. "I'm already better."

"Next time you're getting the meds."

"No."

"Why not?" He pushed the chair out of the room. "You're our patient, and we are supposed to make you comfortable."

"You're supposed to make me healthy," she corrected.

"Which implies comfort."

"Sure."

"So why the opposition?" he pressed. "You take Vicodin, so you can't have some philosophical opposition to painkillers."

"It's not that." She folded her hands in her lap. "If you give me muscle relaxants it goes into my chart, which goes into the hospital mainframe, which goes right into my aunt's computer."

"If you don't want her involved in your care…" he trailed off, none to eager to get involved in the personal life of his boss.

"You'd deliver the message for me?" she asked hopefully.

"I'd - uh - um."

"Stop freaking out." She laughed. "I'm not going to make you do that."

"You're not very nice."

"Sorry." She smirked as he backed the wheelchair into an elevator. "I was reorganizing my bedroom two weeks ago and I must have done something to aggravate it. I called my physical therapist and she recommended some stretches - I have an appointment with her next week."

"And Dr. Cuddy can't know this because…?"

"Because she's my aunt and she overreacts," she told him the half-truth. The real truth was that Rebecca hated the look her Aunt Lisa got in her eyes whenever her back was acting up. It wasn't pity – it was guilt, which was much worse. "Don't worry, if it gets legitimately bad I will ask for the meds, okay?"

"Okay." They got off the elevator and he began pushing her towards her room.

"Do we need to go back to my room right away?"

"Well, no - not as long as you're feeling okay." He looked down at her. "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere there is a payphone."

"You know there is a phone in your room."

"But my aunt most likely is waiting in said room."

"All right." He pushed her towards an atrium and handed her his cell phone. "Use mine."

"Thanks." She took it from him. "Do you mind if I call long distance."

"Not at all – as long as the call is legal."

"Don't worry; it's just one small drug deal."

"I'll give you some privacy then," he teased.

"Thanks." She smiled back at him before dialing the number into the phone. Listening as it rang, she sighed and shook her head – the things she would do for family. After completing her call, she looked over to see Chase leaning against the wall, popping Skittles into his mouth. "Dr. Chase."

"So who'd you call?" He sauntered over to her.

"No one." She handed him back the phone. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He slipped it, along with the bag of Skittles, into the pocket his white coat. "But you do know I can just check the call log."

"You could, if I hadn't deleted it already." She changed the subject. "So have you figured out what's wrong with me yet?"

"We're working on it."

"Any ideas?"

"A few."

"Care to share?"

"Not until we narrow it down." They approached her room and he spotted Cuddy seated next to the bed with file folders spread out in front of her. "You were right."

"Told you." She smirked as he wheeled her into the room. "About time you showed up! What's a girl got to do around here to get some attention from her aunt?"

"Hey Becks." Cuddy set down the budget report she had been reading and walked over to give her niece a kiss on the cheek.

"I see you've made yourself at home." She glanced at the folders, which were spread on her bed.

"You sound fine," she teased back, but was unable to mask her concern over Rebecca's pale complexion completely. She turned her attention to Chase. "I'll get her settled back in bed."

"Sure." He stepped aside so Cuddy could push the wheelchair closer to the bed. "She'll need to be re-hooked up on the IV and antibiotics."

"I'll take care of it." Cuddy nodded, effectively dismissing him from the room. She then cleared her folders from the bed and stacked them on her chair, before turning to Rebecca. "You need any help?"

"No, I'm good." She got out of the chair and climbed into the bed.

"How's your head?"

"Fine right now – it comes and goes."

"And by fine you mean…?"

"Four and a half." She translated it into the numerical pain scale. "I'm fine."

"Okay." She pulled on a set of latex gloves. "Give me your arm."

"Yes ma'am." She watched Cuddy attach the IV line to the exposed plastic catheter already in her right hand. "Ow – be gentle! This is the arm I do have feeling in, remember?"

"Sorry." She turned on the infusion pump back on and the saline began to drip down the tubing again. Once Cuddy was satisfied with the flow, she pulled the gloves off and returned to her seat, the files now in her lap.

"Where were you when I came into the clinic this afternoon?"

"I was in a meeting."

"What kind of meeting?"

"Budget."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Now correct me if I'm wrong, Aunt Lisa, but aren't these budget meetings a regular thing?" Rebecca raised an eyebrow as she spoke. "Aren't they scheduled in advanced?"

"Yes."

"Then why would you tell me to come into the clinic for a blood draw, when you knew you had a meeting?"

"It was rescheduled at the last minute."

"Sure it was." She paused, tapping her chin with her finger. "Or maybe you planned this whole thing out."

"What do you mean?"

"You wanted Dr. House to be the one to see me," she clarified, having heard enough stories over the years about the obnoxious, yet brilliant, diagnostician to put the pieces together. "This was one big set-up."

"It worked." Cuddy shrugged.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you." She gave a half-hearted smile.

"You don't have to pretend."

"What?"

"You do not need to pretend that you aren't freaking out right now."

"I'm not freaking out."

"You're an awful liar."

"I'm just concerned." Cuddy sighed. "You know I worry about you."

"I know, but I'm going to be fine."

"You're a bad liar too. You're freaking out just as much as I am."

"True." She bit her lip. "But House will do that miracle diagnosing thing you claim he's so good at and we'll be at home fighting about whose turn it is to empty the dishwasher in no time."

"For the hundredth time, that is your responsibility." She changed the subject. "I cook and you clean up."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Rebecca laughed it off and glanced at the stack of files on her aunt's lap. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Killjoy."

"Someone has to keep you on the straight and narrow." She smirked, turning on the television.

* * *

"This isn't right." Wilson said to House as they made their way toward Rebecca's room. The pair had spent the last couple ours discussing the case and a few other topics first in House's office and then over dinner in the cafeteria. The tests had shown no tumors or unusual lesions, but it did not rule out lymphoma, leukemia, or some other blood born cancers.

"What?" House stopped.

"You coming with me."

"Why not?" He mock pouted. "You don't want my company?"

"I'm going to see a patient."

"I know, I admitted her."

"You hate seeing patients," Wilson reasoned.

"True, but I've already seen this one." He continued walking towards the room. "Plus she watches _General Hospital_."

"So you only see patients that share your TV habits?"

"I suppose." They reached the doorway of Rebecca's room and could both see Cuddy inside. "Oh, and did I mention she's Cuddy's niece?"

"House," Wilson muttered, but his friend was already bursting into the room.

"Now don't you two look cute?" House entered to room to see Rebecca in bed watching television and Cuddy working on budget reports. He looked at his patient, noticing that Cuddy's notes were spread out on the bed and parts of Rebecca's lap. "Does she always use you as a desk?"

"Frequently." She lowered the volume on the television. "She's really quite abusive."

"Am not!" Cuddy swatted her niece's leg.

"See what I mean!" She laughed, but her face froze when she saw Wilson in the corner. "Dr. Wilson."

"Hello Rebecca." He smiled at her. "It's good to see you again, although I wish it was under better circumstances."

"Yeah, me too."

"You two know each other?" House looked at them in surprise – upset that his plan to catch Wilson off guard had failed.

"Aunt Lisa's car was in the shop three weeks ago, so I drove her into work for a couple days," she explained. "We met in the garage."

"How come I never saw you?" House asked.

"Because you never get to work on time," Cuddy answered.

"Oh yeah!" He slapped his head.

"So Dr. Wilson." Rebecca looked up at him with apprehension. "Why are you here? Was there something on my scans?"

"Your scans were all clear – no tumors."

"But?" she prompted, knowing there was more.

"Because of your family history, you could have Li-Fraumeni Syndrome, which puts you at an increased risk for cancers, meaning there is the possibility that there are cancerous cells in your bloodstream, lymphatic system, or another part of your body."

"Would that explain the headaches and the lack of sensation thing?"

"If it is cancer, then the neurological symptoms would be caused by paraneoplastic syndrome."

"What's that?" She directed her question at Cuddy, not Wilson. Even though Rebecca knew that Wilson was the expert, instinctively she looked to her aunt for clarification.

"Basically," Cuddy began after a quick nod from Wilson assured her she could take over briefly. "The antibodies your body produces to fight the cancer cross-react with normal tissues and attack them instead."

"Okay – so what's the test?" she asked, having been hospitalized enough after the car accident to predict the next step.

"We do genetic testing to check for Li-Fraumeni, which is just a quick oral swab," Wilson explained. "Those results will take a while, so we're going to do a bone marrow aspiration and test a sample of cerebrospinal fluid to get more immediate results."

"You mean a lumbar puncture?" Rebecca's eyes flitted from Wilson's to Cuddy's to House's.

"Yes," House answered. "We need to test the CSF to rule out cancer along with encephalitis, meningitis, MS, Guillian-barré, and a whole host of neuropathies."

"Isn't there another way?" she asked, the anxiety clear in her voice.

"No," he told her with his typical sarcastic tone. "You're afraid of a little spinal tap and not the giant needle in your pelvis for the aspiration?"

"I…"

"House!" Cuddy cut off her niece. "May I have a word with you outside?" She began walking to the door without giving him an opportunity to protest. "Excuse us."

"What?" House asked her once they were in the hallway. "Was I being to mean to your niece, _Aunt Lisa_?"

"The last time her doctor needed a CSF sample, she had to go through 2 failed LP's because of the scarring before the doctor finally did a cisternal puncture," she explained curtly, refusing to give in to his mockery. "So cut the girl some slack."

"When was this?" He watched her carefully. This was not the normal angry- Cuddy reaction; it was different – more protective and even a little maternal.

"A year after the accident – she had an infection and a lot of back pain." Her eyes clouded over briefly with the memory. "Turned out to be viral pneumonia – her back was just irritated by the stress of coughing."

"We'll get it right the first time," he said, before reentering the room.

"I was just telling Rebecca that I've scheduled the aspiration for tomorrow morning, but that I could do the LP tonight," Wilson began when they walked back in. "If that's okay with everyone."

"Is that okay?" Cuddy looked at her niece, who looked calmer than before.

"Yeah." She nodded, taking a deep breath. "Dr. Wilson promised he'd do it himself."

"Ooh, that's good!" House slapped his hand on his colleague's shoulder. "Wilson here as magic hands – at least that's what all the ladies say."

"Okay." Wilson shrugged the hand from his shoulder. "I'm going to get what I need and will be back in a couple minutes."

"And I'm going to go watch TV." House followed him out the door.

"You sure you're okay?" Cuddy rolled her eyes at House's comment before looking down at her niece.

"Yeah." She folded her hands in her lap. "I just overreacted, and Dr. Wilson assured me that looked that the MRI and that he'll get it the first try."

"Dr. Wilson's good," she agreed.

"Does that mean you can personally attest to the fact that he has 'magic hands'?"

"You're terrible." Cuddy groaned.

"I know, but you're stuck with me."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Not mine…just borrowing…

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. I especially liked that you all approved of my 'magic hands' line; it was one of my personal favorites. It's also great to get feedback on whether I'm staying in character or if I'm inconsistent on details. And for anyone reading and not reviewing, feel free to drop me a line, I'd love to hear what you think!

**Title: Caricature of Intimacy**

Timeline: Season 1, post-Vogler, pre-Stacy's return

Characters: Rebecca, House, Cuddy…

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"Jesus!" Rebecca exclaimed when she awoke to see House watching television with his feet propped up on the edge of her bed.

"No just me." He glanced over at her, pausing the DVD player. "And aren't you Cuddys supposed to be Jewish, anyway?"

"We are, but it's not like I was invoking his name in prayer or anything." She blinked a couple times as her eyes adjusted to the light. "What are you doing here?"

"Watching _The O.C._" He pointed up at the television.

"You watch _The O.C._?"

"Yeah."

"And you couldn't do that in your own home?"

"I don't have the DVD's."

"Okay." She sighed and he restarted the DVD. After a few minutes of dialogue, Rebecca realized that the episode was a few ahead of the one she had been watching before she fell asleep. "What time is it?"

"A little after nine," he answered without looking at her.

"Do you know what time I fell asleep?"

"What do I look like, your babysitter?" H paused the DVD and grabbed the chart from the end of her bed. He pulled out the nurse's notes, a four-page document that listed vital signs and other technical aspects of patient stays, and set them on her lap before restarting the show. "Here."

"Thanks," she muttered, picking up the notes with her right hand. Since she was still recovering from the lumbar puncture, Rebecca was almost flat on her back and had to lift the up to her face. When she reached to steady the page with her left hand, she was surprised by a tingling sensation. "Uh, Dr. House?"

"What now?" He paused the show again. "Do you need me to read it for you too?"

"My arm feels numb."

"Like asleep numb?"

"Yes, but only when I try to move it. Otherwise, it just feels normal."

"Have you eaten any rare variety peas recently?" House ran through a quick list of potential causes for paresthesia in his head, excluding the ones that the previous tests already had ruled out.

"Um, no."

"What about herbal teas?"

"I only drink coffee."

"Any ridiculous Starbucks blends?"

"No, just Folger's."

"Okay then." He turned his head back to the television. Her answers ruled out lathyrism, so the parethesia she was feeling was probably just the progression of whatever was the source of her illness.

"That's it?"

"Uh, yeah."

"You want to tell me what's going on with my arm, _doctor_?"

"You're neurological symptoms are getting worse."

"Wow." She rolled her eyes. "I never would have guessed that. Are you going to do anything about it?"

"Is it painful?"

"No."

"Well, then we're just going to have to wait for the results of your tests." He paused. "Do you want me to page _Aunt Lisa _and fill her in?"

"No," she said quickly. "That's all I wanted to know."

"Why don't you want me to call Cuddy?" he asked, the speed of her answer piquing his curiosity.

"Because she'd come rushing back to the hospital and she needs to get some sleep." She paused. "Although, I'm pretty sure she's either neurotically cleaning or working out."

"And your other reason for not telling her?" he prompted.

"There is no other reason."

"Then why didn't you tell her about your back pain?"

"Because I wanted to avoid the lecture on 'knowing my limits' and 'not over doing it.'"

"And the call you made from Chase's cell phone?"

"Was private," she snapped. "Do your doctors always report back everything a patient says, or is it only when the patient is related to the boss?"

"You choose the one you like more." He shrugged noncommittally. "Either one still leaves me with the information and you in the hot seat."

"And I thought she had been exaggerating," she muttered to herself.

"Who?" House heard her. "Cuddy?"

"She always said you were an obnoxious jackass – I thought she was being melodramatic."

"What else has she told you about me?"

"Not much."

"Come on." He leaned forward pleadingly, doing his best imitation of a gal-pal. "Spill!"

"Okay." She sighed. "Every Friday night, Aunt Lisa and I make popcorn and talk about how lucky she is to work with the _dreamy_ Dr. House."

"Very funny." He rolled his eyes.

"Well, what did you expect? We live together, so I ask her about her day at the hospital. You work with her, so you come up on occasion."

"So how long have you been living with Auntie Lisa?"

"Since last fall," she answered, happy to have evaded his previous line of questioning about her keeping things from her aunt, but wary at where this could be headed. "But I've had a room at her house since the accident."

"Where did you live after the accident?"

"With my grandparents in the Chicago suburbs."

"But your parents named Cuddy as your guardian."

"How did you know that?" She gave him a look of genuine surprise, wondering who would have given him that information. Cuddy never discussed the accident, and the only time she spoke of her sister was when Rebecca raised the subject of her parents.

"Because you just told me."

"Well, then how did you guess?"

"I got your medical records from Student Health - Cuddy was listed as your guardian."

"Because I was under eighteen when I started there."

"Bingo." He smirked. "If you didn't figure that one out, I'd say you don't belong at Princeton."

"Lucky for me, my GPA and SAT scores say otherwise." She gave him a half smile.

"Well?" he prompted, letting her know that he wasn't going to let the question go.

"After the accident, Aunt Lisa let me decide where I wanted to live. She had just finished her first year as Dean of Medicine here, so she couldn't leave, but she didn't want to force me to stay in New Jersey. My grandparents' house was only ten minutes from where I lived with my parents, so I chose to stay with them," she explained. "I'd come here for a week in the winter and spend half my summer with her."

"She ever visit you?"

"No, I preferred to visit her - it was more fun," she told him. "When I started at Princeton, I began spending more time here than back home. I worked in Chicago last summer and stayed with my grandpa, but ever since my grandma's death he wanted to move to a smaller place, so in the fall he decided to sell the house. That's when I officially moved in with Aunt Lisa. I still have a bedroom in his new condo that I use whenever I visit, but I only head back to Chicago for vacations now."

"Hmm - good to know." House nodded, making a mental note that Rebecca used the pronoun 'I' to describe her visits to New Jersey. Based on what she said, this meant that Cuddy's parents never came out to see her and that Cuddy never went back home to see them. This new information intrigued him, and he knew he would have to harass more info out of Cuddy later.

"Anything else?" she asked, arching her eyebrow in a very Cuddy-like manner.

"That's it for now." He grabbed his cane from the end of her bed and stood up.

"You're just going to leave?" She turned her head slowly to look at him.

"I've gotten my _O.C._ fix for the night."

"So you only see patients if you can use them for their DVDs?"

"Pretty much," he called over his shoulder as he left the room.

* * *

At 9:00 am the next morning, Cuddy walked into her office with a yawn. The previous night had been a long one. She had gone home after Rebecca's spinal tap, partially because that was what her niece wanted, but mostly because Rebecca had managed to convince Wilson to follow her around relentlessly until she finally gave in got into her car.

Once she finally got home, she busied herself packing a bag of necessities for Rebecca and then unleashed her pent-up frustration on the treadmill. After the workout and shower, she stood in her bedroom at a loss for what to do. Normally, she would go downstairs to find Rebecca watching some ridiculous television show, but tonight she could not do that.

The severity of her niece's illness terrified her and filled her with guilt. How had she not realized that fever and headaches were a sign of something more? In the rational corner of her mind Cuddy knew that her reaction had been normal and that she did do something by getting Rebecca to see House, but the other side of her remembered House's words in his office that afternoon when he told her that she was thinking like family and not a doctor.

Unable to keep those nagging thoughts out of her mind, Cuddy had grabbed another duffle bag from the closet and began packing her own clothes and toiletries inside. Taking the bags, she got in her car and returned to the hospital. Rebecca had been fine when Cuddy first arrived, but during the middle of her the night her fever spiked and she developed severe chills, which served only to aggravate her back muscles.

By morning, the antipyretics started working and Rebecca began feeling better enough to eat a little breakfast and kick her aunt out of the room. Normally, Cuddy would have objected, wanting to keep a watchful eye on her niece, but she wanted to change clothes because her current outfit was too casual – khakis and a tank top with a thin long sleeved shirt layered over it were not appropriate for a Dean of Medicine.

When she got into her office, Cuddy locked the door behind her and entered the darkened room, the many windows still covered by the curtains she had drawn the night before. She peeled off the plum colored long sleeved shirt leaving only a black spaghetti strapped tank top. She turned around to throw it on the couch, but gasped when she saw a figure sitting there.

"Jesus!"

"You know, your niece says the same thing when you surprise her, which is odd considering the whole Judaism thing."

"Damn it, House!"

"Don't stop on my account." He leered at her and she pulled the long sleeved shirt back over her head. "Aw, come on, can't we let the kids stay out and play a little longer?"

"What the hell are you doing in here?"

"Well, I was watching the free show." He stood up. "But now that it's over I guess I'll be leaving."

"We both know that you did not stake out my office on the off chance I would walk in and take off my shirt." She walked over to pour herself a much-needed cup of coffee. "What do you want? Is it about Rebecca?"

"Yes." He sat down in one of the chairs facing her desk and waited for her to take her regular seat. "She has a new symptom."

"The chills?"

"Well, yeah." He watched her take a sip of her coffee and waited until she swallowed before continuing. "Her neurological symptoms are getting worse."

"What?" She slammed her coffee mug on the desk. "None of this was in her chart."

"It wasn't?" He made an 'oops' face. "I must have forgotten to write it down."

"House!" She glared. "This isn't funny."

"Last night she developed parathesia in her left arm," he told her. "It's nothing more than a progression the initial systems - it's nothing new."

"You still write it on her chart."

"I wrote it on my white board."

"That's not a chart."

"You should talk to your niece."

"What?" His comment threw her off.

"Everybody lies, Cuddy." He studied her reaction carefully. "Even your precious little niece."

"What did she say to you?"

"She asked me not to put it in her chart."

"Why?"

"Well, that's the interesting part," House began. "She claims it's because she wanted you to rest, but she was lying."

"Did she tell you that?"

"No, but I can tell these things." he tapped his forehead with his finger.

"She did want me to rest. That's why she made Wilson escort me to my car."

"And she'd never keep anything from you, right?" He rolled his eyes. "Because you're the cool fun aunt that she tells everything - you're best buddies."

"We're close," she answered through gritted teeth. "The only thing we don't talk about is her back pain," she admitted and noticed the glee in House's eyes fade. "Was that the big secret?"

"No." He was clearly lying.

"It was." She laughed slightly. "I know that it's been bothering her more recently because she made an appointment with her physical therapist and that she's been taking more meds."

"But you didn't talk about it?"

"No," she admitted reluctantly.

"You avoided the issue." He smirked. "That's a really solid bond you two have."

"Rebecca hates talking about her back."

"Now why is that?"

"She doesn't like my reaction."

"Which is?" he pressed.

"I worry about her."

"It's more than just that." He looked at her carefully, recognizing a familiar look in her eyes - the same look she got whenever he cracked a cripple joke or popped a Vicodin in front of her.

"Is it?" she questioned, her voice laced with annoyance. "You've known Rebecca all of 24 hours and you've already analyzed our relationship?"

"I'm an experienced observer of human nature." He shrugged. "And I'm very familiar with you."

"Fine!" She gave an exasperated sigh. "Then tell me your great insights into the relationship between my niece and me."

"Guilt."

"Guilt?" She was surprised he could pin it down so quickly.

"Yes - you feel personally responsible for her pain."

"Sure." She stood up, not wanting to get into it. "Are you done?"

"Yeah." He began walking to the door. "But you can't keep hiding forever."

"I'm not hiding!" She snapped, her voice louder than she had expected.

"Of course not." He stopped to stare at her. "That's why you're yelling at me in the middle of your office."

"I always yell at you in my office." She attempted to change the subject, but House wouldn't let her.

"This is different - normally you're frustrated, but today you're angry." He watched her fume. "Pissed, actually."

"Then do yourself a favor and get out of my office!"

"You're motivated by guilt, it's how you operate. It's ridiculous and eats away at you, but I don't care about you right now." He ignored her outburst, determined to get the information out of her. "Rebecca is my patient and I need to know everything about her - I can't have you keeping something from me."

"It's not relevant," she told him.

"So there is something."

"But it doesn't matter."

"See, I can't agree with that until I know what it is."

"It's not."

"Is it about her treatment after the accident or the accident itself?" he guessed, knowing that she was close to telling him by the look in her eyes.

"The accident." She looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with him. "I was driving."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine…just borrowing…

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed – it really keeps me going. I also must thank Ender2 for correcting my grammar and making sure I don't go soft and leave out the snarkiness! Oh, and I'm leaving for a family vacation at the end of this week, so between packing/traveling, it may be hard to get a fresh chapter out, but I hope you like this one!

**Title: Caricature of Intimacy**

Timeline: Season 1, post-Vogler, pre-Stacy's return

Characters: House, Cuddy, Wilson…

* * *

**Chapter 5:**

"I was driving."

Her words hung in the air, suspended in the thick silence that surrounded them. House watched her carefully, but Cuddy was not in the room – at least not mentally. She was back in her car, driving through the streets of Trenton on a rainy night a lifetime ago. In the passenger seat was her brother-in-law Adam; in the backseat Rachel and Rebecca were giving a dramatic retelling of the capers of their latest family vacation. None of them saw the other car until it was too late.

The ring of the phone on her desk jarred her from her thoughts. She was grateful for the distraction and even more grateful for an excuse to get House of her office. Without looking up at him, she mumbled, "I need to get that."

"Let it go."

"It could be important." She ignored him and picked up her phone. "Lisa Cuddy."

_--"Lisa"_ _the voice said, and Cuddy didn't need any further clarification to know who it was. They had barely spoken in years, but there are some things a girl can never forget._

"Dad." She sunk slowly down into her chair, preparing herself for the lecture she was about to receive. When Rebecca had first been admitted, she had debated calling Phil Cuddy but she could not bring herself to pick up the phone, "I…"

_-- He cut her off, "I know Becca asked you not to call me." His words surprised her. Rebecca had not mentioned calling her grandfather to her aunt, but had stepped in and smoothed over what could have turned into a major crisis before it even occurred, "But I need to know what's really going on. It's more than 'just' an infection, right?"_

"Yes."

_--"Well, what is it?"_

"We don't know."

_--"You don't know?" he asked tersely. His tone made Cuddy cringe; she could picture the disapproving look in his eyes. "What kind of hospital do you have that your doctors can't figure out what's wrong with her?"_

"It's complicated." She rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling a familiar tension return.

_--"No, it's not. You run tests and you diagnose her. If that doesn't work, you send her to a different hospital. If your hospital isn't good enough…"_

"My hospital is the best option for her!" she snapped.

_--"This shouldn't be a matter of pride for you, Lisa."_

"Princeton Plainsboro has the leading diagnostics department in the country." She took a deep breath in an attempt to remain objective in their discussion. "Her case has been assigned to a world-renowned doctor – Becca's getting the best."

_--"All right. We'll see," he responded, the closest to agreement that Cuddy could hope for. "I'm coming up there."_

"Okay – when will you get in?"

_--"3:30 this afternoon."_

"I'll send a car to meet you at the airport."

_--"Will I need to get a hotel room?"_

"No, Dad, you'll stay with me."

_--"Okay, I'll see you in a few hours."_

"Yeah," she said, getting the click of the phone in response. Carefully setting the receiver back in the cradle, she looked up at House. "You know, most people excuse themselves when someone has a private conversation."

"I'm not most people," he said, shrugging it off, "So how is Daddy Cuddy?"

"Fine."

"He didn't sound so fine."

"You didn't even hear his voice." She rose from her desk and crossed the room to stand next to him, fulfilling the need to literally stand her physical ground.

"But I heard yours," he challenged, "And aside from the glowing praise of yours truly, you sounded seconds away from your hyena screech."

"Are you done?" She crossed her arms and glared.

"No," House answered simply, "You can't drop a bomb like that one and expect me to just walk away without saying anything."

"Watch me." She walked over the couch and began folding the blanket she had used the night before.

"You're not blowing this off," he said, pulling the blanket from her hands and throwing it back on the couch in a ball.

"This is none of your business. Stay out of it, House."

"I'm already in it. I'm treating your niece, remember?"

"Yes, you are, but knowing more about my screwed-up relationship with my father has nothing to do with her," she told him firmly, not realizing what she had admitted before it was too late to take it back.

"See what I did there?" He smirked, "I just got you to admit that the relationship's screwy. Now tell me the rest."

"It's none of your business." She repeated firmly.

"What is it?" He pressed, knowing she would explode if she did not release some of the pent up frustration. As entertaining as it would be to watch her combust, he needed her on top of her game in case any issues arose with Rebecca, so House chose to bring up the one thing she was desperately avoiding. "He blames you."

"Hey Cuddy," Wilson's voice filtered through the closed door after a knock, "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," she answered, the relief evident in her voice.

"It's locked." He jiggled the door handle.

"Right, sorry – one second." She attempted to brush past House, but his hand on her wrist stopped her. "What?"

"Am I right?"

"Let go."

"Am I right?" he repeated.

"House." She gave him a glare that was not angry, but more of a pleading request for him to drop it. He let go of her arm and she walked passed him to unlock the door for Wilson. "Hi."

"Hey," Wilson immediately noticed the flustered expression on Cuddy's face and quickly spotted House, "Am I interrupting?"

"Yes," House replied.

"No," Cuddy said at the same time, "Come in. What's going on?"

"I was just on my way up to Rebecca's room to do the bone marrow and wanted to check in with you," he explained.

"Oh," she glanced down at her wrist, where her watch was not, "What time is it?"

"9:20," Wilson answered, "We've got ten minutes before the lab has everything set up."

"Um, I need to change first. Can you give me five minutes?"

"Sure," he looked at House, "We'll wait outside."

"Thanks," she mumbled as they left her office.

* * *

"What did you say to her?" Wilson asked House once they were outside of Cuddy's office. 

"Who, Cuddy?"

"No, the other Dean of Medicine, whose office we just exited."

"Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Then why was she flustered?"

"I don't know – PMS?"

"You said something to upset her."

"I always upset her – it's what we do."

"No, you annoy her," Wilson corrected, "You make her angry and frustrated – not upset."

"So I'm mixing it up a little." He shrugged. "I got to keep her on her toes – keeps things kinky."

"Sure."

"Hey, when did Cuddy hire you?"

"Two years before she hired you. Why?"

"How long had she been Dean of Medicine?" House asked instead of answering the question.

"Around six months. Once again, I'm going to ask why?"

"So you were here for the accident?"

"Yes," Wilson answered, not needing clarification as to which accident House was referring.

"Tell me about it."

"No."

"No? Why not?"

"This is what you were talking about when I knocked, right?" he asked and House nodded, "And Cuddy didn't tell you about it?"

"If she did, would I be asking you?"

"If she wanted you to know, she would tell you herself."

"She's just being difficult – you know how we are."

"Yes, I do," Wilson agreed, "That's why I'm not getting in the middle."

"Fine," he sighed dramatically, "I'll just have to dig up the police reports and hospital records."

"Go for it."

"Or you could just tell me what you know. It will save both of us time and money."

"How do you figure?"

"I'm going to keep bugging you until you give me the info, which means we'll have lunch together, which means you'll be paying."

"Even if I tell you everything, we'll still have lunch together, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"And if I tell you everything you'll pay?" Wilson watched him with amusement.

"Well, no – but it will be much more pleasant for both of us if you just tell me."

"I don't know that much."

"Then there's no harm in telling me." House could tell his friend was on the verge of caving. "I'm only going to find out later."

"Fine," he sighed. "The accident happened in Trenton. You already know about Rebecca's injuries. Her parents were killed on impact, and Cuddy had the least serious injuries – at least relatively speaking."

"Which were?" House glanced at Cuddy's office and looked down at his watch, hurrying Wilson along.

"Concussion, collapsed lung, a few broken ribs, and a three different fractures in her right arm."

"Our Cuddy, always the over-achiever. Let me guess, she was back to work in a week."

"Two and a half."

"Slacker," he muttered, earning a glare from Wilson. "Anything else?"

"Uh, no."

"That's all you know?"

"Pretty much."

"You're lying."

"None of your business," Wilson responded. Yes, there was more to the story, but there was no need for House to know how much the accident had affected Cuddy or how much she had needed a friend during those first few months.

"Whatever you say, Jimmy." House smirked as the door to Cuddy's office opened and his friend gave a relieved smile, knowing he was safe. "About time."

"Why are you still here?" Cuddy asked, looking much more composed than before.

"Because I wanted to see what outfit you would choose for the girls." He looked at her cleavage, which was hidden by one of her more conservative power suits. "I honestly can tell you that I'm a little disappointed."

"Sorry, better luck next time," she shot back, happy to have returned to their normal banter. She turned her attention to Wilson, "You ready?"

"Yeah, let's go," he answered quickly, making an exit with Cuddy before House could say anything else inflammatory.

House watched them go, puzzled by Wilson's behavior. Normally, his friend gossiped like a giggling schoolgirl, but this time he was silent out of some need to protect Cuddy from the big bad House. To the outside observer, it would seem that Wilson was simply walking the fine line of separate friendships with two warring parties, but House knew otherwise. Wilson was fully aware of what he called the 'warped-twisted relationship' between House and Cuddy; understood that there was no need to protect one from the other and never tried to do so – until now.

His thoughts drifted back to Cuddy and her out of character behavior. Yes, she was upset and worried about her niece, but in times of crisis the typical Cuddy reaction was to let her workaholic Type A personality take over – the more stressful the situation, the more professional her behavior became. Despite the perceived antipathy between them, House knew Cuddy well. Part of it was that she could be as predictable as clockwork and the other part was that beneath their verbal sparring laid a mutual understanding of each other. He constantly challenged her authority out of a need to annoy her, but also because he knew she had no qualms about pushing back. It was a game they had played from the moment they had met back at Michigan…

**_(flashback)_**

_House looked up at the clock on the wall of the University of Michigan's Medical Center's free family clinic and groaned. It was only 10:30 am, which meant he still had four more hours of clinic duty left. The entire situation was ridiculous; he was the star first year resident in the hospital, but they still forced him to do 'volunteer' clinic duty with the rest of the interns. This was a waste of his time and talents. _

_Ducking behind a supply cart, he leaned against the wall and watched the people milling around the admit desk. There were the standard nurses, the over-achieving interns, who were so excited to have their MD's that they would do any work, and then there was the volunteer receptionist. She was younger than the rest of the clinic workers, probably only twenty or twenty-one, and with curly brown hair and blue-green eyes; she was pretty cute. _

_He had seen her there the past two times he had been forced to be there, and she worked diligently, answering every patient's question with a smile that made him want to throw up. She was obviously some over-achieving, neurotic premed undergrad, hoping to impress med schools' admissions directors by spending her summer in a free clinic. Deciding annoying her would be more fun than work, he sauntered over to the desk. _

_"Hey." _

_"Charts are over there," she told him, barely glancing up from her computer to register his presence. _

_"I'm on a break." _

_"Good for you." She looked at him with a forced smile, "Coffee's over there." Her attention returned to her work, but House continued to stare at her expectantly. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up in annoyance. "Do you need me to pour it for you?" _

_"Don't want coffee." He pulled an extra chair up next to her and sat down. She rolled her eyes and returned to her work, which he saw as a challenge. Looking down at the nametag attached to her t-shirt he read, "Lisa Cuddy, Volunteer." _

_"You read my ID – impressive," she said, continuing to enter patient information from the stack of forms next to her. House leaned back in his chair and propped his legs up on the desk – his feet resting squarely on top of her paperwork. She glared it him for a moment, but yanked the papers out from under his feet and moved them to the opposite side of the computer. _

_"All right." House shrugged, semi-impressed by her non-reaction to his antics. Refusing to relent, he chose to change strategies. "You're an undergrad – premed, right?" _

_"What makes you say that?" she responded without looking at him. _

_"It's July and you're spending your time volunteering in a free clinic. You don't have a Michigan accent, which means that you aren't from around here but chose to stay in Ann Arbor to waste your mornings helping people find their way to a bottle of aspirin. I bet you're even sucking up to some doctor by doing research in the afternoons." _

_"So what if I am?" _

_"Nothing." He watched her flip to the next form in the stack with more force than necessary, meaning that he was succeeding in frustrating her. "I'm Greg House." _

_"I know." _

_"Really?" _

_"Your reputation precedes you." She turned her chair and smirked at him. _

_"What have you heard?" _

_"That you're a brilliant, but also a cocky ass." _

_"It's all part of my charm," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "Most undergrads love it." _

_"Is this the part where I'm supposed to look into you eyes and melt because the brilliant intern is giving me, the lowly undergrad, attention?" She batted her eyelashes at him. _

_"That's generally how it works." He smirked back at her, genuinely amused. _

_"You're a pig." _

_"You're a prude." _

_"Hey!" She glared at him. "You don't even know me." _

_"Whose fault is that?" He raised an eyebrow. "Have lunch with me." _

_"What? No – I am not going to lunch with you." _

_"Drop the femi-nazi attitude," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not asking you out, I'm just bored as hell and figured some lunch company would be fun." _

_"What about the other interns?" _

_"Please." He gave her a 'you've got to be kidding look.' _

_"Let me get this straight," she began, her eyes dancing with laughter, "You're the kid on the playground who can't play nice with the kids his own age, so he's forced to spend time with someone younger." _

_"Pretty much." _

_"Fine," she answered after a couple seconds of consideration. _

_"See you at 12," He smiled as he left the admin area. The rest of his clinic hours may suck, but at least lunch would be entertaining._


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Not mine…just borrowing…

A/N: Sorry about the long delay the post vacation chaos was crazier than I had expected. And sadly, I'm now going to be busy moving back down to school and doing orientation stuff, but I promise that the next chapter will be coming. As always, thank you so much for the reviews – I adore you all!

**Title: Caricature of Intimacy**

Timeline: Season 1, post-Vogler, pre-Stacy's return

Characters: House, Wilson, Chase, Cameron, Foreman, Cuddy…

* * *

**Chapter 6:**

"We've got good news and bad news," House announced as he entered the conference room in the diagnostics suite.

"No cancer markers in her blood and her bone marrow is clear." Wilson walked into the room behind House. They had just delivered the news to Cuddy and Rebecca and were returning to discuss the differential diagnosis with the full team.

"The bad news?" Foreman asked from his seat at the table.

House picked up his dry erase marker and popped off the cap. "That was the bad news."

"Then what's the good news?"

"Do we have a new symptom?" Chase guessed.

"Hemolytic anemia." House wrote one the whiteboard as he spoke. When he did not receive an immediate response he looked at them expectantly. His team looked back at him, waiting for more information or some kind of direction as to what he wanted.

* * *

Cuddy walked past the diagnostic suite as she had hundreds of times before. Usually she would burst through the doors, outraged by House's latest stunt and ready to yell at him. This time, however, she paused. Fever, Headache, Low WBC, Parathesia, Hemolytic Anemia 

The symptoms on the white board – Rebecca's symptoms – stopped her cold. This was not a normal case; she was not just the Dean of Medicine. A quick look from Wilson confirmed that she should stay out of the room, so sighed and entered House's office instead. Cuddy attempted to ignore the diagnostic process that was taking place in the next room by looking at the many toys that lined House's desk. Picking up a small Hot Wheels car, she could not help but smile at the memory it invoked.

**(flashback)**

_Cuddy sat in the cafeteria of Michigan's Children's Hospital eating a salad, when she felt something hit her foot. Looking down, she saw a small green car followed by a set of little brown eyes._

"_Sorry."_

"_Don't worry about it." She picked up the car and handed it back to him. "Here you go."_

"_Thank you." He gave her a gap toothed grin before returning to his family's table._

"_You're welcome." Cuddy watched him go and looked down at her tray to see a second car roll into it. This time she looked up to set of piercing blue eyes._

"_Cuddy."_

"_House." She glared at him as he sat down with his tray. Since their first lunch the previous month, they had become friends of sorts. Whenever House had clinic duty, she would screen through the patient charts and, based on how annoying he had been that day, she would give him the interesting cases...or the dull ones. "It's Tuesday." _

"_I know."_

"_You don't have clinic on Tuesdays."_

"_I know."_

"_Then what are you doing here?"_

"_Shockingly, I still work in the hospital when I'm not in clinic – I actually work more."_

"_I mean, why are you harassing me?" She rolled her eyes. "My Tuesday lunches are supposed to be House-free. I look forward to them."_

"_Don't lie. You love our lunches."_

"_They're what I live for," she answered dryly. Although she would never admit it, Cuddy did enjoy their lunches to an extent. They would banter about the hospital, argue about current events, and occasionally have real conversations. They were snippets – references to his childhood on Marine bases around the world or a story about her sister's newborn baby._

"_As it should be." He smirked._

"_You know, I'm kind of surprised to see you in the Children's Hospital. I thought you avoided pedes like the plague."_

"_Actually, I may be able to stomach pedes if there was a plague."_

"_Nothing like a little black death to make whining parents and children tolerable." She took a bite of her salad. "But since there is no plague, why are you here?"_

"_Happy Meal."_

"_You're kidding." She took a closer look at the bag holding his food and saw that it was indeed the children's meal._

"_They have the best toys."_

"_What are you, five?"_

"_Could a five-year-old do this?" He pulled a McNugget from the box, tossed it in the air, and caught it in his mouth._

**(end flashback)**

Cuddy flipped the car over to see that it was a McDonald's toy, but it was not the one she remembered. There was no reason for him to have saved it, and she had not expected him to, but a part of her wished it was. Things had been so much simpler back then. Forcing the memories from her mind, she placed the car back on his desk and picked up the oversized tennis ball. She absently spun it in her hands as she waited for the team to finish.

* * *

House spotted Cuddy the minute she had appeared in the hallway outside of their conference room, but he did not acknowledge her presence. Cuddy the administrator was never part of the differential, and there was no way in hell he would let Cuddy the aunt in either. House hid a smile when she choose to keep walking past the door, but when she entered his office he was forced to hide a grimace. 

"So?" He looked at his team. "Now's the part where you guys tell me what you think are brilliant ideas, and I tell you they're wrong, and send you on your merry way to test things."

Foreman spoke first. "Could be a reaction to the antibiotics we gave her."

"Except that the antibiotics have done nothing for the underlying condition, so the anemia is probably more than just a reaction," Cameron argued. "What about exposure to toxins, heavy metals, and solvents?"

"If it's environmental why isn't Cuddy sick?" Chase asked.

"She spends 40 hours a week interning at a legal aid clinic and they sleep on separate floors of the house," she told them. "That leaves environmental causes on the table."

"Could be rickettsial or parasitic." Chase tapped his pen on the table, as Foreman nodded in agreement.

"That would account for the neurological symptoms."

"Except that she has no tick bites and her CSF smears were clear." Cameron said, looking up from the lab results.

"Tests could be wrong." Chase set his pen down on the table. "And parasites don't always show up in the first smear."

"Where would she have picked up the parasite?" she asked. "Other than a cruise in the Bahamas two years ago, she hasn't been out of the country in over five years."

"Okay, what about drug use?" Foreman offered. "Cocaine and Meth can cause hemolytic anemia."

"It would have to be a lot of drugs to show these kinds of symptoms," Chase said. "And Cuddy said there weren't any personality changes that would point to heavy use."

"And if she wanted a buzz she could just take more Vicodin," Cameron added.

"That's what I do." House rattled his bottle of pills in his pocket.

"She could be substituting something stronger for the Vicodin," Foreman continued his rationale, pointedly ignoring House. "That would cut down on behavioral changes."

"Except that Rebecca told us she hasn't used anything," Cameron pointed out. "And we tested her hair, urine, and blood – all negative."

"Everybody lies," Chase countered, "Especially Rebecca."

"Are you calling Cuddy's niece a liar?" House made an over-exaggerated gasp.

"Well, not exactly," he said, stuttering slightly. "But she's openly admitted to hiding her back pain from Cuddy and she hijacked my cell phone to make a private call out of Cuddy's earshot."

"A call to her grandfather," House told him, "Very sneaky."

"How did you know who she called?" Chase sounded surprised.

"I know all." He tapped his forehead with the marker.

"Even if the call was innocent, it proves that Rebecca can be deceptive." Chase stuck to his theory. "You said she came into the clinic because Cuddy wanted to run a few blood tests. She's a smart girl, she could have stopped using to keep it from coming up on the test."

"True." House nodded and then pointed the marker at Cameron dramatically. "Cameron."

"Yeah?"

"Go talk to her – ask about drugs, sex, everything."

"Again?"

"Yes, and promise you won't breathe a word of it to Auntie Lisa. Tell her you cross your heart and hope to die."

"Stick a needle in my eye?" she finished dryly.

"Exactly." House smirked. "And pump her full of corticosteroids and folic acid. See if we can keep the anemia from getting worse."

"Okay."

"What are you waiting for?" he asked when Cameron did not get up immediately.

"To hear what you're going to tell them to do." She looked in the direction of Chase and Foreman.

"That's not important, just go," House ordered. She looked at him curiously, wondering why he was trying so hard to get rid of her, but decided it was not worth the effort to argue and rose to her feet. As she opened the door to step out, House added, "And don't forget to ask about the sex. I want to know who's getting more: aunt or niece."

"Have you ever heard of boundaries?" Foreman laughed as Cameron left the room in disgust.

"Have you?" House shot back with an immature grin before returning to business. "You two check her office and house."

"You want us to break into Cuddy's house?" Chase looked at him in surprise.

"No, I want you to break into our patient's house – there's a difference."

"No." Chase shook his head. "There's not."

"Just go."

"You know, House," Foreman said as he stood up, "I'm surprised you're not coming with us."

"Why would I do that?"

"To pry into Cuddy's personal life."

"That would be unprofessional," House scoffed.

"Never stopped you before," Chase pointed out.

"I'm turning over a new leaf." He smirked. "I've been listening to Oprah – remembering my spirit."

"Sure."

"Just go and be careful you don't get caught." House looked toward his office, where Cuddy was waiting. "Cuddy's always watching." Foreman and Chase followed his gaze, surprised to see Cuddy looking back at them. "Now shoo, before she gets really suspicious."

"Why didn't you give them the key?" Wilson asked House once they were alone in the room.

"Because this is more fun." He pulled the key from his pocket and tossed it at his friend. "Catch."

"You're not going to keep these." He dangled the key in the air. "Make copies?"

"Maybe I already have." House raised his eyebrows and led the way towards his office and the waiting Cuddy. When he opened the door, he shouted angrily, "Damn it, Cuddy, would you stop playing with my balls. This is a hospital, not your bedroom!"

Cuddy responded by whipping the oversized tennis ball at his head. House ducked aside leaving Wilson as the target, but the oncologist caught the ball easily, as if he had expected it to sail his way. Cuddy was about to apologize to Wilson when she spotted her spare key in his hand.

"I thought you were going to look for environmental factors." She looked at House expectantly.

"We are." He crossed the room and sat down at his desk.

"Then why are your team gone and Wilson still holding my key?"

"Because my team likes a challenge and there's no challenge with a key."

"There's also no breaking and entering!" she snapped at him.

"What are you going to do, sue your hospital?" She responded by biting her lip and shaking her head slightly. "See, I didn't think you'd do that to your baby."

"Just tell me why you couldn't give them my key?"

"If I gave them the key this time, they'd want one next time, and then they'd get soft," House reasoned and then looked at Wilson. "Can I have my ball back?"

"Only if you promise to play nice." He held the ball in one hand and the keys in the other. "Both of you."

"But Cuddy likes it nasty." House reached for the ball, but Wilson pulled it away.

"Uh-uh."

"Fine, _Dad_!" House rolled his eyes dramatically and Wilson reluctantly handed him the ball.

"Good luck." He tossed Cuddy her keys before leaving the office.

"He should have wished me luck," House muttered as leaned back in his chair. "So, Cuddy, what's up?"

"I don't know, House. What do you think is up?"

"Hmm, well the sky for one." He looked out his window. "The trees too and the girls, of course." His eyes fell on her chest. "I can't really see them, but I know they're there. Must be a good bra."

"Are you done?"

"Almost." He stared at her chest for a few more seconds and then looked back up to meet her eyes. "Now I'm done."

"Good." She gave him a forced smile, knowing that it was driving him crazy that he couldn't bait her into an argument. "Now why don't you tell me what your team is doing for my niece?"

"Well, Ms. Cuddy," he began slowly, a look of fake concern plastered on his face. "Your niece's blood cells aren't working properly so we're giving her corticosteroids, which is a really strong type of medicine that will…"

She cut him off, "I'm not an idiot, House! I know what hemolytic anemia is."

"You mean you're in Dr. Cuddy mode and not Aunt Lisa mode?" He gaped at her. "I just assumed that since you called her 'my niece' you were acting as family."

"It shouldn't matter."

"Yes. It should."

"Fine, how is your team treating the _patient_."

"Was that so hard?" His question was met with a glare. "We're started her on corticosteroids and folic acid."

"Transfusion?"

"If it gets worse."

"Which it will."

"Yeah."

"Yeah," she repeated softly, looking down at her hands.

* * *

A/N: So what did you think? Let me know what you thought was good and even what was bad? I love feedback like House loves Vicodin!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Not mine…just borrowing…

A/N: Phew, I just finished the chaotic move-in week and was able to get a new chapter in. Classes start-up tomorrow, so it may be a week until I've got Chapter 8, but I promise it's coming. Many thanks to my wonderful beta and my reviewers, you guys rock!

**Title: Caricature of Intimacy**

Timeline: Season 1, post-Vogler, pre-Stacy's return

Characters: Cuddy, House, Chase, Foreman, Cameron, Rebecca…

* * *

**Chapter 7:**

"Well, I'm going to get going." Cuddy stood up abruptly.

"So soon?" House pouted. "You just got here."

"You told me what I needed to know."

"And you don't want to know about anything else?"

"Are you in a sharing mood?" She looked at him in surprise. "Why don't you want me to leave? What's going on with Rebecca?"

"Nothing."

"No way." She pointed her finger at him. "You're trying to keep me occupied while your team does – I don't know – something."

"I'd never do anything like that!"

"Right – what are they doing?"

"Chase and Foreman are searching your house."

"And Cameron?" she challenged.

"Is chatting with Rebecca. I think they're gossiping about celebrities – something about Johnny Depp or Orlando Bloom – I wasn't really listening."

"Really? Because I would _love _to get in on that conversation – Johnny's justso dreamy!"

"Oh no you don't." He held onto her arm so she couldn't leave the room.

"If I stay, you talk."

"Cameron's just asking her a few questions." He let go of her arm

"If it's so innocent, then why I can't I be there?"

"Because if you're there, Rebecca will lie."

"About what?"

"Sex, drugs – you know, the kind of things you'd want to keep from your neurotic aunt."

"She already answered those questions. It's in her chart."

"Which she knew you were going to read." House sat back down at his desk. "If she was hiding something from you, she wouldn't have told us. She's smart."

"I know." She reluctantly sat back down as well. "Which is why she knows that keeping something like illegal drug use or unprotected sex from the doctors treating her would affect her diagnosis."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes, I am."

"But she's kept stuff from you before."

"Like what?"

"Like when she called Daddy Cuddy on Chase's cell phone so you wouldn't know about it."

She looked away. "That was different."

"Why?"

"Because it is."

"That's the best argument you – the woman who runs this entire hospital – can come up with?"

"It's all the argument I need because, as you just pointed out, I run this hospital and don't need to explain anything to you."

"I don't need to watch _The O.C._, but I do because it's fun."

"You think it's fun to pry into my personal life?" She gave him an incredulous look.

"Duh!"

"Not going to happen." She shook her head.

"We were talking about it in your office before Wilson interrupted."

"No, you were speculating about my relationship with my dad, and we are not doing that again."

* * *

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Chase said, as he looked through the cleaning supplies under Cuddy's kitchen sink.

"We're doing what we normally do," Foreman said calmly as he checked the refrigerator.

"If this is so normal, why don't you have a snack?" he asked, knowing full well how Foreman would help himself to the patient's food.

"Not hungry." He closed the door and stepped away from the refrigerator.

"Really?" Chase glanced at the clock on the microwave. "It's almost time for lunch."

"I'm good – anything in the sink?"

"All organic." He stood up, closing the cabinets as he did. "You don't want to eat because you're afraid Cuddy will notice."

"And you're not?" They walked out of the kitchen, and the first floor bedroom came into view. They looked at the bed and then at each other. "Cameron said Rebecca sleeps upstairs, right?"

"Right."

"So we don't have to check Cuddy's…?"

"No," Chase said quickly.

"Good." He nodded in agreement and they headed for the stairs. There were just some things about a boss that no one needed to know.

* * *

Cameron walked up to Rebecca's room as was surprised to see it filled with balloons, flowers, stuffed animals, and cards. The last time she had been in the room there had been a single flower arrangement and a few balloons, but now ever surface was covered. She was even more surprised to see Rebecca chatting with a candy striper while watching a movie.

"Hi girls." She smiled as she walked in.

"Hey." Rebecca smiled back, hitting the pause button for the DVD. She gestured at the girl next to her. "This is my neighbor Liz."

"I'm Dr. Cameron." She offered her hand.

"Nice to meet you." Liz smiled.

"Are you a candy striper here?

"Nah, she just really likes pink and white striped smocks." Rebecca teased.

"Yes, I am." She ignored her friend. "And I should probably be getting back to work."

"Don't want Evil Nurse Brenda to yell at you." Rebecca smirked.

"She's not evil." Liz shot a worried look in Cameron's direction. "She's just strict."

"That's not what you said thirty minutes ago."

"I'm leaving." She gave an exasperated sigh. "It was nice meeting you Dr. Cameron, and good luck dealing with Rebecca."

"Hey!" Rebecca gasped.

"Feel better," Liz called as she left the room.

"Sorry about that." Rebecca apologized to Cameron.

"Don't worry about it." She laughed. "It was entertaining."

"I've known Liz for eight years. She's like a little sister to me."

"She seems sweet."

"She is." She looked at the IV bag in Cameron's hands. "New meds?"

"Prednisone." She hooked it up to the IV. "It's a…"

"Steroid." Rebecca finished for her.

"Yes. It should help with the anemia."

"Okay."

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

"No. Go ahead." Rebecca pointed to the stuff Liz had left on the seat. "You can just put that stuff on the table."

"Thanks." She took the chair Liz had left at the bedside. She picked up the stack of papers and held up the DVD case that was on top. "You're watching _Evita_?"

"Yeah. It's one of our favorites – long story."

"Okay." Cameron glanced down at the stack of opened cards and a pad of paper. "And you were sorting mail."

"Liz was helping me go through the get well soon cards and writing down who sent them and what was said, so I can thank people later."

"Are you having more trouble with your arm?"

"Not really." She raised her arm and slowly made a fist. "It just feels weird."

"Okay. Let us know if it changes." Cameron set the stack of cards on the table. "Well, you're very popular."

"Not exactly."

"The flowers, balloons, and cards say otherwise."

"At first glance you would think that, but the majority are really for my aunt. Everyone wants to suck up to the boss."

"Ah." She nodded. "It must be weird being a patient in your aunt's hospital."

"A little."

"She's involved in everything – sees everything in your chart."

"She would do that even if she wasn't the chief of medicine. Aunt Lisa obsesses – it's what she does." Rebecca shrugged it off. "She even knew everything that was going on when I was at the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago and she was hundreds of miles away."

"But still, you have even less privacy here."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"

"Was there anything in your history about drugs or sex that you didn't tell us because you didn't want your aunt to find out?"

"You think I was lying?"

"No," Cameron answered quickly. "Just maybe there's something you left out. If you experimented…"

"Nothing."

"If you did anything. I would leave it out of your chart."

"I know, but I didn't," Rebecca said honestly. "I don't smoke, I don't drink, and I've never tried drugs."

"What about guys?"

"Like I told you before: I haven't been with anyone since I broke up with my boyfriend a year ago, and with him I always used protection."

"Okay. I just wanted to be sure. I'm sorry if it seemed like I was attacking you."

"No." Rebecca sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just so frustrating not knowing what's wrong with me."

"I know it's difficult, but we're going to get you better. We're going to run some more tests to figure everything out. You're very brave."

"Please, don't call me that. If I had a dollar for every time since the accident that I've been told I was brave…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

"You could buy this hospital," Cameron finished.

"Exactly." She nodded slightly. "Do you have any other questions?"

"You're sure you and Cud – er – your aunt…"

"You can call her Cuddy if it's easier. I don't mind."

"Thanks." Cameron smiled. "You haven't changed cleaners or fertilizers or done any remodeling."

"No, but why does that matter?"

"Certain fertilizers or pesticides can have toxins that could effect your central nervous system, and something like lead based paint could lead to heavy metal toxicity."

"Well, we have a gardener and a handyman, and I stopped licking the paint years ago, so I think lead is out." Rebecca hid a grin. "Although Aunt Lisa has been serving me powdered sugar doughnuts for breakfast recently, so maybe it's arsenic."

"You're terrible." Cameron laughed.

"You should have seen me harassing the social worker handling my DCFS case after the accident." She laughed as well. "That was terrible – I was obnoxious."

* * *

"Have you ever seen a teenager with a room this clean?" Foreman asked, as he checked the products in Rebecca's bathroom.

"She lives with Cuddy, what do you expect?" Chase said with a shrug. He looked through the closet, which was neatly lined with clothes, shoes, and storage containers.

"Still, I've never seen a girl with a bathroom that clean." He walked out of the bathroom and began checking the desk. The top drawer held pens, paper, and a basket holding the prescription pain killers Rebecca had already told them about. So far, they had found nothing that would explain the hemolytic anemia or any other of the symptoms.

"Some people are organized," he said, shrugging it off. Finding nothing in the closet, Chase moved onto the bookshelf. He looked at the top shelf and found two pictures of Rebecca and her parents. The first was the three of them in the African Savannah and the second had a beach that he recognized immediately. "Rebecca's been quite the traveler: Africa and Australia."

"Recently?" Foreman looked up from his work in surprise, wondering if Rebecca had been lying.

"Well, no." He glanced down at the pictures. "I'd say twelve for Africa and seven for Australia."

"Then it's not relevant." He went back to searching the bottom door.

"Whoa." Chase said, as he picked up another frame.

"What?"

"This." He held up the picture for Foreman to see. The picture showed a teenaged Rebecca on the beach in a bikini.

"Is that?" Foreman walked over and took a closer look at the second bikini clad woman in the picture.

"Would be the cruise to the Bahamas?"

"With Aunt Lisa."

"Yeah." he set the frame back down on the shelf. "Looks like they had fun."

"Yeah." Foreman shook his head slightly to clear the image from his head. Not that Cuddy had looked bad in the picture – in fact she looked pretty damn good – but there was a certain line crossed when checking out your boss in a bikini.

"Bingo."

"What'd you find?"

"This." Chase showed him the wooden box he had found on the corner of a shelf.

"Let's go." Foreman agreed after seeing the contents.

* * *

"So you really think she wasn't lying?" House switched back to their original subject. He was not going to drop the daddy issue, but he needed to divert her attention while he planned round two.

"Yes." Cuddy glared. "I do."

"You want to put money on it?"

"House!"

"Oh come on. If you're so sure she tells you everything, you should have no problem putting money on it."

"I'm not betting on my niece's medical treatment."

"You did it again."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, Aunt Lisa," he mocked.

"Calling her 'the patient' will not change the fact that she's my niece."

"But this way it's easier to at least pretend that you're objective."

"Why do you care so much about my objectivity?" She folded her arms. "I stayed out of your way while your team was doing the differential."

"Because Wilson gave you a look. You were dying to come inside."

"But I didn't. I'm not the one treating her, so my objectivity is not a concern."

"Every test or procedure we do lands directly on your desk for approval. So unless you plan to step down as Dean of Medicine, you're involved."

"I'm still capable of doing my job."

"No, Cuddy, you're not!" he snapped. "You're rapidly losing perspective and are thinking like a worried aunt and not a doctor."

She glared back at him. "I'm sorry if I lack your detached objectivity, but Rebecca is not just a puzzle to me. She's my niece and I care about her. I want her to get better."

"No, you need her to get better."

"Same thing!"

"No, it's not." He slammed his cane on the desktop for effect. The sudden movement made her jump. "You need Rebecca to get better so you can continue trying to make her life perfect to make up for her parents' death."

"Leave it alone!"

"Nothing you do is going to bring them back – they're dead, so stop blaming yourself."

"It was my car. I was behind the wheel when we crashed." She stood up and headed for the door. "I don't need to sit here and rehash the worst thing I ever did with you."

"And the drunk driver in the pick-up truck had nothing to do with it?" She froze in place when he said this but did not turn around. House picked up his cane and stood up as well. He walked over and continued speaking slightly softer. "I saw the police report. You didn't cause the accident."

"But if I hadn't been driving…" she trailed off no longer trusting her voice. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. Damn him. Why did he have to keep pushing? Why couldn't he just leave it alone like a decent person would have done?

"The drunk guy still would have been." He finished, waiting for her to turn around and face him, but she did not move. "You can't change the past."

"I know." She walked out of the office without glancing back.

* * *

A/N: So let me know what you think? Any lines you liked/didn't like? Any ideas/speculations? Remember, I love reviews like House loves Vicodin!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Not mine…just borrowing…

A/N: Okay, I haven't updated in forever, and it may be a while until I update again because of the chaos that is my life, but hopefully I still have some readers/reviewers…enjoy!

**Title: Caricature of Intimacy**

Timeline: Season 1, post-Vogler, pre-Stacy's return

Characters: Cuddy, House, Chase, Foreman, Cameron, Rebecca…

* * *

**Chapter 8**

"Did you say something to Cuddy?" Cameron asked House. She leaned on the table in the Diagnostics Conference room as they waited for Chase and Foreman to return from their search of Rebecca's house.

"Say something?" Hmm." He tapped his forehead thoughtfully. "She's my boss; we're treating her niece, so yes."

"I mean something offensive."

"Like I said, she's my boss, we're treating her niece," he repeated his previous statement and limped over to the coffee machine. "So, yes."

"I mean more offensive than usual."

"Why?" He paused to pour coffee into his read mug. "Did you hit her with a barrage of compassion, and Cuddy just blurted out that the _mean old House_ upset her."

"She just seemed upset," Cameron said, ignoring his mockery.

"Differential diagnosis for seeming upset?" He paused for effect. "Illness of a loved one – does that fit?"

"It's more than just Rebecca." She watched him swallow his coffee. "Rebecca asked Cuddy how her meeting was with you, and said it was fine, but she was clearly upset. Rebecca noticed too and cracked a joke to change the subject. So what did you say?"

House listened to Cameron's retelling of the conversation with mild amusement. It was in her personality to explain things with as many details as possible – it was her way of personalizing every situation. Normally this annoyed him, but today it gave him valuable insight into how much Cameron actually knew about his conversation with Cuddy. Based on her description, Cameron was fishing.

"You may have been too busy caring and forgot, but Cuddy and I are not friends. She never leaves a meeting with me in a good mood. Unless we've – you know – but she likes to keep that out of the hospital."

"This was more than her being irritated about some crack about her 'funbags.'" Cameron made the air quotes as she spoke.

"Why do you care?"

"Because…"

He cut her off, "Wait, scratch that – you can't breath without caring. Why do you care so much about Cuddy? Did you two become BFF's when I wasn't looking?"

"We work together."

"No, you work with Chase and Foreman. I work for Cuddy. You work for me."

"It's the same hospital." She gave an exasperated sigh. "And if that argument doesn't work for you, just accept that she's family of our patient."

"Patients and their families are idiots," he declared, satisfied when she rolled his eyes. His goal was to get her to forget her questions about Cuddy. He just had to push her a little more to achieve complete diversion. "But I was really hoping for the BFF thing, because then maybe I could get that threesome I've always wanted for my birthday."'

"You're disgusting."

Goal achieved.

* * *

Cuddy sat next to Rebecca's bed and watched her niece sleep. The quarterly donor reports on her lap demanded her attention, but Cuddy was too distracted by her previous discussion with House. It wasn't the accusation that she was too emotionally involved that bother her – she agreed with that. It was his assumptions about her feelings related to the accident – assumptions that were remarkably accurate as well. 

There was no denying the guilt she felt. Cuddy wasn't stupid; she knew that she didn't cause the accident. The idiot who got behind the wheel drunk was responsible…but the 'what ifs' remained in the back of her mind. She didn't think about it everyday, and sometimes weeks would past without really thinking about any of it. But then Rebecca would say or do something that was so reminiscent of her mother that all the memories would come flooding back.

The crunch of metal after the initial impact – the flash of sirens – the agony of the ambulance ride spent wondering about her family – the slight comfort when she finally lost consciousness – the look in her mother's eyes when she woke up after surgery on her arm and the look in her father's when Rachel's body was lowered into the ground.

Shaking her head in an attempt to push the memories away, Cuddy sighed and looked down at Rebecca. Attached to IV's and monitors, her niece failed to provide the distraction Cuddy desired. Rebecca stirred slightly, her brow furrowing slightly, and Cuddy reached soothingly brush her hair from her face. It had the desired effect, and within moments Rebecca's features relaxed into those of peaceful slumber. Rebecca was dead to the world, something she had been able to do ever since she was a baby…

**(flashback)**

_Cuddy sat on the couch in her parents' house in the Northern suburbs of Chicago, taking a brief reprieve from the festivities taking place in the backyard and kitchen. The day before she had graduated from the Pritzker School of Medicine at the University of Chicago, and today her parents were hosting a party in her honor. She had been sitting down for a little more than two minutes, when a five year old Rebecca crawled onto the couch next to her. By the time her mother tracked down her roaming daughter, Rebecca was sound asleep, her head of dark curly hair in her aunt's lap._

"_Hey," Cuddy greeted her sister softly._

"_Hey yourself."_ _Rachel smiled. "I see Becky's happy to have you as a pillow again."_

"_I don't mind."_

"_I know and so does she."_

_Cuddy smiled down at her niece. "And she was out before I could protest."_

"_That would be the jetlag." Rachel bent down to pick up her daughter, who barely stirred from the change in position. "Come upstairs with me."_

_Cuddy happily followed her sister upstairs and away from the party, where they would be able to talk in private. Rachel and Rebecca had been Cuddy's surprise graduation gift. They had been in Africa for the last six months with her brother-in-law, Adam, an associate anthropology professor at the University of Chicago. His PhD research kept him in Africa, but the girls were able to get away._

"_She's gotten so big," Cuddy said, as Rachel covered the little girl with a blanket._

"_I know – I still can't get over it." They walked over to the small couch in the corner of the guest room. When they sat down, Rachel pinched her younger sister's cheek. "Same goes for you."_

"_Give me a break." She rolled her eyes._

"_You missed me."_

"_Sure."_

"_I missed you and so did Becky. You're all she talked about on the plane."_

"_If you've missed me so much, then why has it taken you two hours to tell me this?"_

"_It's not my fault the entire extended Cuddy family wanted me to regale them with tales of Africa, but I am legitimately sorry for stealing all of the attention at a party that is supposed to be all about you."_

"_Don't worry about it."_

"_It's not fair."_

"_It's out of your control." She shrugged off her sister's concern and grinned. "Besides, all of the presents have my name on them."_

"_You know, American culture is so materialistic. If Africa has taught me anything, it's that money doesn't matter."_

"_What about the rock on your finger?"_

"_This ring."_ _Rachel held up her left hand, before continuing her overdramatized, moralistic tirade. "Was pre-Africa and before all of the amazing lessons I've learned. You need to rethink the way you've been leading your life Lise."_

"_You're full of it and you're a downer."_

"_Well, not everyone can be a party-pants like you."_

"_That's Dr. Party-pants to you." She smirked at her sister._

"_Right, I forgot." Rachel slapped her forehead. "Second in your class."_

"_Don't remind me."_

"_What?" She looked confused. "That's amazing – you're amazing."_

"_Not according to Dad." Cuddy tried to hide how much it bothered her._

"_Did he say something?"_

"_No, but I can tell."_

"_He is proud of you."_

"_Right."__She looked up at the ceiling to keep herself from crying._

"_He is. He just doesn't know how to show it." Rachel waited until her sister met her eyes before continuing. "Think about it, Lise, you are a doctor. In three weeks, you'll be at Johns Hopkins, starting your residency in…uh…"_

_Cuddy smiled at her sister's forgetfulness. "Internal medicine with a subspecialty in hematology."_

"_See," she began with a grin, "You're so impressive that I can't even put it in words."_

"_Which is pretty terrible for an English major and lawyer," she teased. "Although you've been playing trophy wife for the past couple of years, so I guess you've lapsed a little."_

"_Thanks. I appreciate that." Rachel shook her head. "I'm trying to have a serious bonding moment between sisters and you're mocking me."_

"_Sorry."_

"_I'm really proud of you, little sister."_

**(end flashback)**

"You know that's pretty creepy." Rebecca's tired voice interrupted Cuddy's thought.

"What?"

"You staring at me while smiling."

"Sorry. I was just thinking about something. How are you feeling?"

"Eh." She shrugged. "Tired, nauseated, etc."

"You should try to go back to sleep."

"What were you thinking about?" Rebecca ignored her aunt's suggestion.

"A memory."

"About what?"

"Your mom," she answered, surprising both of them. Cuddy rarely brought up her sister.

"Will you tell me about it?"

"If you close your eyes and try to sleep."

"Deal."

* * *

"My loyal minions have returned!" House proclaimed when Chase and Foreman appeared in the doorway. Cameron walked into House's office from where she had been working at her desk. "What great treasures have you unearthed?" 

"I wouldn't really call them treasures," Foreman said, handing him the wooden box Chase had found on Rebecca's bookshelf.

"Looks like treasures." House set the box on his desk and looked inside, pulling out a small glass bottle.

"Morphine," Chase said. "There are also alcohol pads, syringes, and a tourniquet."

"Chills, nausea, headache, and neurological symptoms like parathesia can all be explained by morphine abuse," Foreman added.

"And if she was going through withdrawal, it would explain why she's getting worse and not better." Chase folded his arms, satisfied that his discovery seemed to explain Rebecca's condition.

"What about the hemolytic anemia?" Cameron asked.

"If she's combining morphine with vicodin…" Foreman trailed off in his explanation, knowing that they were all aware of the blood disorders possible from vicodin abuse.

"It would fit," Cameron agreed reluctantly. As much as she wanted to believe that Rebecca was a 'good kid,' she understood that she really didn't know the girl well enough to make that call.

"So if we agree that Rebecca's a junkie, then who is her dealer?" House asked the group.

"Does it matter?" Chase asked.

"Uh, yeah." He held the bottle up to the light, turning it slightly. "Prescribing physician: Lisa Cuddy." He set the bottle down and looked at his team. "Now that's interesting."

"Not really," Foreman said. "All it means is that Rebecca probably stole one of Cuddy's prescription pads."

"Or Cuddy's the dealer." House picked up his cane and stood up. "There's only one way to find out."

"What are you doing?" Chase asked; the concern evident in his voice.

"Going to get Cuddy." He smiled at the obvious fear this instilled in Foreman and Chase. "It's the only way we're going to know how little Becky's been scoring the good stuff."

"We don't need to know…"

House cut Foreman off, "No, you don't want to know, because then Cuddy will find out that you and Chase broke into her house."

"Which you ordered us to do," Foreman argued.

"I think Cuddy's going to be too pissed to know the difference." He smirked at them. "But we can't really know what her reaction will be until we ask. So I better get going."

"House!" Cameron scolded, but he was already out the door.

* * *

House made a beeline for Rebecca's room, confident that Cuddy would be at her bedside. Sure enough, he spotted her sitting next to Rebecca's bed. Leaning against the wall out of her line of vision, he reached out with his can and tapped the glass window. After a few moments, Cuddy appeared in the hallway looking extremely annoyed. 

"Yes?"

"I need you."

"Uh, why?"

"My team returned."

"Did they find something?"

"A box."

"Could you be a little more descriptive?" she asked tiredly.

"With syringes and morphine – all prescribed by you." He watched her reaction. "Have any of your prescription pads gone missing recently?"

"I prescribed the morphine. It's there for…"

He interrupted her, "Emergencies."

"Yes." She looked up at him, knowing that he understood having the morphine on hand as a security blanket. "But she hasn't touched it."

"I figured." He looked past Cuddy into Rebecca's room. "Morphine addiction is too simple."

"Are we done?"

"No."

"Is there more?"

"I'm sure the kids have some questions for you."

"You just want to terrorize them."

"Never!" he gasped.

"I…" she trailed off, looking first at Rebecca and back at House. After a moment of thought, she took the situation for what it was: a peace offering. An offer to harass his team was House's way of saying that their earlier conversation was in the past. "Fine. Let's go."

"This is going to be fun." House grinned, following her back to his office.

* * *

"Oh God." Chase groaned when he spotted Cuddy and House coming down the hallway. "He brought her with him." 

"Does she look pissed?" Foreman asked.

"Just annoyed." He moved away from the window, so they wouldn't see him watching.

"Then he hasn't told her and wants us to." Foreman folded his arms and leaned against the bookshelf.

"Great," Chase muttered.

"Maybe it won't be as bad as you think," Cameron said.

"Maybe you're delusional," Foreman countered. "This is Cuddy we're talking about."

"You were both doing what House wanted, and Cuddy knows his methods are unconventional. You'll be fine," she assured them.

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one who broke into her house," Chase said, his voice panicked.

"You were doing you're job," Cameron said.

"Depends on who you ask." Foreman looked away from Cameron and towards the doorway, where House and Cuddy were entering.

"All right kids," House began, as he limped in after Cuddy. "Show Mom what you found."

"Found?" Cuddy arched an eyebrow.

"They were on a scavenger hunt of sorts." House smiled at the silent discomfort of the team, as they watched Cuddy's eyes narrow in on the box they took from Rebecca's room.

"You broke into my house." It was a statement, not a question – there was no way they could deny what they had done.

Foreman spoke first, "We were looking for environmental factors."

"Do I look sick to you?" Cuddy asked, her voice remarkably calm, which served only to freak them out more.

"No." Chase stuttered slightly as he spoke. "Which is why we only checked Rebecca's room."

"And that's supposed to make the huge invasion of our privacy okay?" She waved her hand in the air for effect as she spoke.

"We needed to rule them out." Foreman said.

"Here's a novel idea: ask me first!"

"We didn't…never mind." Chase began to argue that they didn't have time, which was better than the 'patients lie' argument, but a glare from Cuddy made him realize that neither excuse was a good idea.

"Why don't we discuss what they found, instead of how they found it?" Cameron took a step forward, drawing attention away from the boys.

"Fine, tell me about your brilliant discover," Cuddy said dryly

Chase and Foreman looked at each other, each prompting the other to speak first. Neither wanted to accuse Rebecca of morphine abuse and risk making Cuddy any angrier

"Come on, speak-up." House pointed at them with his cane. "She already knows what you stole.

The request was met with another silence

"What? Are you afraid of Cuddy?" he asked. "She may be the dragon lady, but…

Foreman cut him off. "House, you're not helping.

"Oh, you want help?" House turned to Cuddy and continued in a pleading voice, "Don't be mean to them, they couldn't help it. Foreman's black and Chase has no spine.

"Grow up!" Cuddy walked past them and looked into the box. "This is it?" She held up one of the packaged syringes. "This is the discovery that justified breaking into my home: hospital supplies.

"And morphine," Chase added

"Prescribed by you." House tossed the bottle at her

"I know – it's for emergencies." She looked down at the bottle in her hands and back up at Chase and Foreman. "Rebecca hasn't touched it, which you would have known if you had taken the time to ask.

"But…" Chase began

Cuddy cut him off, "Everybody lies?

"Yeah." Chase said and Foreman nodded in agreement

"It's not morphine." She set the bottle on the desk with a sharp thump. "Now stop playing cops and robbers and do your jobs.

After shooting another glare at Chase and Foreman, Cuddy stormed out of the office – her heels clicking an angry cadence down the hallway. Once she was gone, Chase and Foreman each breathed a silent sigh of relief

"That could have been worse." Chase reasoned

"Oh, it will be," House assured them. "She's just going to wait until Little Miss Rebecca is all healthy again before she exacts her full revenge. I bet you'll be banished to the clinic for months.

"No, that's your punishment." Foreman paused as he thought about Cuddy's reaction to the break-in, which was oddly directed at them and not House. "Why wasn't Cuddy pissed at you? There's no way she thinks you weren't involved.

"I've got two words for you: sexual favors," he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Now, come on, kids, let's go to the conference room. That white board isn't going to write on itself.

* * *

A/N: Review…please!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Not mine…just borrowing…

A/N: Okay, I know that my updates are rare, but I'm going to try and be better…really! Please review…I love hearing what you all think and I really appreciate it.

**Title: Caricature of Intimacy**

Timeline: Season 1, post-Vogler, pre-Stacy's return

Characters: Rebecca, Chase, House, Wilson, Cuddy, Phil Cuddy…

* * *

**Chapter 9**

"What are you doing?" Rebecca asked as Chase changed the setting on the infusion pump next to her bed.

"Adjusting your meds."

"Up or down?"

He closed the plastic door on the pump. "Up."

"So it's not working?"

"You just need a stronger dose." He smiled at her and pulled a respiratory care care closer to the bed. After a moment of preparation, he held out a nasal cannula. "Have you ever used one of these before?"

"Yeah, when I had pneumonia." He placed the plastic tubing in her hand, and she felt the light flow of oxygen through the nasal prongs. "Why do I need this now? My lungs and heart are fine. Aren't they?"

"Yes, they are, but the blood disorder is causing stress to your body; the oxygen will help."

"Okay." She placed the cannula under nose, and with Chase's assistance slipped the tubing behind her ears. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He noticed her staring at her hands. "How's the tingling?"

"Annoying," she said, knowing it wasn't the answer he wanted. The loss of

feeling had spread through both her arms, but if she concentrated she could move them – it was an eerie feeling.

Chase sat down in the chair next to the bed. "Has there been any change?"

"Not since Dr. Foreman was here an hour ago."

"That's good."

"Except that every time he checks I've lost more feeling and mobility."

"Well, yes, if you want to be fatalistic."

"You want me to turn my frown upside down?" she asked, a smile forming on her lips. "Take the lemons life handed me and make lemonade?"

"Yes."

"Well, I can't – paralysis sucks."

"You're not paralyzed."

"I have been before and unless you figure this out…"

He cut her off. "We will."

"How, by breaking into my house again?" She smiled when he looked at her in surprise. Harassing him was more fun than self-pity. "Aunt Lisa told me."

"She did?"

"Yup."

"Was she – um – pissed?"

"No."

He looked at her with genuine surprise. "She wasn't?"

"Nope."

"Then what was she?"

"What do you think?" She smirked at him.

"You're having way too much fun with this."

"So?"

"This is my job I'm talking about – you're aunt could terminate my fellowship."

"Chill." She laughed. "She's not going to fire you – unless I die, then you're screwed – but that's not the issue, your B & E is." He still looked worried, so she became serious. "Don't worry, your job is safe."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because she knew you were going to do it."

"But her reaction…"

She cut him off. "An act – she knows the things you guys normally do. She knows everything that goes on in the hospital – it's her baby."

"So she knew?" Chase couldn't get over how angry Cuddy had seemed.

"She even gave House the key."

"I'm going to kill him," Chase muttered and Rebecca just laughed.

* * *

"I come bearing gifts." House announced brightly as he and Wilson entered Rebecca's hospital room a couple hours later. 

She arched an eyebrow at him skeptically. "Really?"

"I have your blood," he answered in his best Dracula voice.

"Oh boy."

"Just sign here." House set a clipboard and pen on her lap and began setting up for the transfusion.

"A consent form." She picked up the clipboard and scanned its contents. Rebecca looked over to Wilson and asked, "Should I be concerned he's asking me to sign this when my aunt is away from the hospital?'

"Normally, I'd say yes," Wilson said, eliciting an annoyed look from House. "But while there are risks to a transfusion, the benefits outnumber them by far."

"In other words: sign!" House said impatiently as he gently juggled the bag of packed cells resting in his hands.

Rebecca picked up her pen with her right hand, using her left to steady it in her hand so she could write. Wilson shot House a concerned look, which Rebecca caught out of the corner of her eyes.

House noticed Rebecca's glance and scolded Wilson. "You're scaring my patient. You should leave."

Wilson looked at Rebecca. "Am I scaring you?"

"No." She shook her head. "You should see the looks Dr. Cameron tries to hide, those are scary."

"Then I can stay."

"No," House said as he finished the transfusion set-up. "You have your own patients all those little bald kiddies must be missing you by now."

"They're all fine."

"They have cancer; they'll never be fine," House said with mock gravity.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "They are for the moment."

"Cuddy put you up to this."

"Up to what?"

"Following me around."

"House," he began seriously. "I always follow you around."

House shook his head. "But today you're doing it as Cuddy's lap dog, because she – what? – doesn't want me alone with her precious niece?'

Wilson was silent.

"Your silence means I'm right," House said triumphantly and looked at Rebecca. "What do you think, Becks, do we need a baby sitter?"

"You can go, Wilson. I'm a big girl and can take care of myself. I'll tell my aunt I threw you out for interrupting my stories, which you will be doing in about thirty seconds, so it won't even be a lie."

"Fine, but when he starts annoying you, don't come crying to me."

House waved at him. "Buh-bye Wilson!"

* * *

Cuddy leaned against a pole in the airport, cynically watching people greet their families. There was no way that all of those people could be so happy to see each other. All of the hugs and the tears were making her ill, so she dug into bag for something that could distract her. Pulling out a draft of the clinic's monthly newsletter, Cuddy began mechanically proof-reading the document. 

One of the articles caught her eye: _Could you be the missing piece? Sign up for the bone marrow registry and save a life._ The drive was being held in the Student Life Center on campus and was sponsored by the Princeton Cancer Society. The drive made her think of a different one - one she had organized years before on Michigan's Campus.

**(flashback)**

"_Wanna race?"_

_Cuddy refused to turn her head to look at the source of the voice. As long as she kept her head against the headrest of the cheap lawn chair where she was supposed to be making the first blood donations of the day._

"_Just because you don't look at me, it doesn't mean I don't exist."_

_The blood donations were funding the bone marrow-a-thon, and as its founder, Cuddy had the honor of the first donation. It was supposed to be a way to start the drive on a positive note - having _him _here was not a positive note._

"_Cuddy!"_

"_What?" she snapped, her head turning to face him._

_He grinned impishly. "Hi!"_

"_House," she said with a roll of her eyes. "What are you doing here?"_

_He thrust a flyer into her lap. "I saw your flyers."_

"_Then you should be in the line to get on the registry."_

"_You're not in the line."_

"_I'm already on the registry."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because I am," she said while shooting him harsh glare that dared him to ask more. _

"_Well, so am I, so they told me just come on over here right next to you."_

"_Swell," she muttered, as two nurses came over to prep each of them for their donations._

"_So, do you want to race?"_

"_We're donating blood, House, not running the 100 meter dash."_

_He leaned forward so he could look around the nurses to watch her. "I'll bet you lunch that I can out bleed you."_

"_If I win, I want a real lunch – not the free pizza we're giving out here._

"_So we have a deal?"_

"_Deal."_ _She smirked at him. "You're going down."_

**(end flashback)**

"Lisa"

Cuddy snapped out of her memory and looked up to see her father. She cursed herself silently for spacing out like that and quickly shoved the newsletter into her bag.

"Dad." She gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek. "How was your flight?"

"Fine." He paused. "I thought you were sending a car."

"I decided to come myself." She began walking toward the exit. "The garage is this way."

"How's Rebecca?"

"The same – she's holding her own."

"Have your doctors figured out what's wrong yet?"

"They're working on it," Cuddy said with a sigh – of course he would consider them 'her doctors.' It was going to be a long ride back to PPTH and they weren't even at the car yet. She couldn't believe she let Rebecca convince her to pick him up. Once her niece was better, Cuddy was going to kill her.

* * *

"So where is Auntie Lisa?" House asked during the first commercial break. 

"Airport."

"Picking up Daddy Dearest?"

"Yeah."

"I thought she was sending a car."

"She changed her mind."

"No, she didn't."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow. "You mean she lied to me and sent a car, opting to what – hit a bar?"

House shrugged in response. "She's your aunt."

"Yeah, she's my aunt, so why are you so interested?"

"Because it's a commercial."

She turned her attention to the television, which was airing an ad for Pampers diapers. "Whatever."

Less than a minute passed before House chimed in. "you did it."

"Did what?"

"Changed Cuddy's mind."

"Sure, because she's so easy to manipulate," she drawled sarcastically.

"For you she is."

"The amount of household chores she makes me do says otherwise."

"You pick your battles; you–"

She cut him off. "Show's on."

They silently watched the show for a few minutes, before House spoke up again. "You play off Cuddy's guilt to get what you want."

"The show's still on," she told him, without looking away from the television.

"Sam's shirt reveals no cleavage, so I have no reason to watch, and you don't care about this storyline."

"Yeah, I do."

"Every time Sam and Jason wee on yesterday you looked away from the television. You're only watching now to avoid talking to me."

"What do you want me to say?" She looked at him in annoyance. "That I'm a spoiled brat who gets whatever she wants?"

"It's what you want that interests me. Why did you want Cuddy to go to the airport?"

"Because I wanted her out of my hair."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire."

"Are you a second grader?" she asked, sounding very much like Cuddy.

"You were running interference again."

"So?"

"It's interesting."

"Why?"

"Because it implies that Cuddy and Daddy don't get along."

"It's complicated."

"I'll bet."

Rebecca glanced at the television only to see that another commercial break had started. She began regretting that she let Wilson leave.

* * *

A/N: Review…please…I'll love you forever!


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